


False Convictions

by OTPAlchemist99



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Will, Broken Will, Cannibalism, Clothing Kink, Cunnilingus, Dark Hannibal, Dark Will, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language, First Time, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Minor Will Graham/Margot Verger, Murder Kink, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, POV Hannibal (sometimes), POV Will, Porn With Plot, Possessive Hannibal, Rimming, Slow Burn, Teasing, Top Hannibal Lecter, no love for Jack Crawford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-01-26 13:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12558648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPAlchemist99/pseuds/OTPAlchemist99
Summary: "Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies." -Friedrich NietzscheAfter Will mutilates Randall Tier's body with Hannibal their relationship deepens. Now Will clings to boundaries as his relationship with Hannibal changes, leaving Will unsure where his convictions really lie.Alternate ending to season two. Always kind of had this story in my mind because I literally felt like I was being filleted open watching the season two finale. This is how I wish it would have ended.This story starts in season two, episode nine: shiizakana mid episode and just goes off in a different direction from there.***Permanent Hiatus***





	1. Chapter One

    “I’m curious what would happen if your patients started comparing notes, Dr. Lector. I wonder if Randall Tier and I would see any parallels.” Will says, stopping to look out the window before turning to Hannibal. Dark meaning and thinly veiled rage laces Will’s words, something he doubts Hannibal misses. Despite the accusatory remark, Hannibal seems unfazed by Will’s comment as if he was talking about the weather.

  
     “Every patient is unique, Will, just as the approach each psychiatrist takes.” Hannibal replies, his tone even and lilted with his unique accent. Hannibal answers the question in a serious tone despite the spark in his dark maroon eyes and the slightest twitch of a smile that hints at amusement. “However, similar therapeutic methods are used across psychiatric care.”

  
     At that, Will scoffs and walks away from the window; the brilliant colors of the setting sun left behind for the neutral tones and dim lights of Hannibal’s office. “Why do I suspect you are singular in your therapeutic methods, _Doctor_?”

  
     Will stops pacing and stands waiting for Hannibal’s response, hands fisted in his dress pants a sharp contrast to Hannibal’s lounged form. Will is unsure which annoys his more, Hannibal’s lack of reaction or his own emotional one.

  
     “What did Randall Tier say to you and Jack when you questioned him?” Hannibal asks, smoothly redirecting the focus back onto Will. It takes more than a little self-control to not roll his eyes at the psychiatrist, something Hannibal undoubtedly would find rude.

  
     “Oh, he said you cured him Dr. Lector, only I don’t think in the societal sense of the word.” Will says, taking a seat in the arm chair across from Hannibal.

  
     “Curing someone is subjective, it depends what they believe ails them.” Hannibal replies, his eyes dancing with a dark spark. _He’s absolutely loving this_ Will thinks in disbelief. Despite his anger, Will can't help but marvel at him when he's in these jovial moods. Hannibal's playful mouth and exotic angles causing Will to stare a little too long.

  
     “So you cured him of his humanity and made him into a monster.” Will says, mentally shaking himself back to the conversation.

  
     “No one can make someone into a monster.” Hannibal says, his intuitive gaze seeming as if it’s trying to dig its way into Will’s thoughts. “In therapy I can only liberate my patients from preconceived notions that don’t align with their true self, much like I try to do in our conversations.”

  
     “And what preconceived notions do I harbor?” Will challenges.

  
     “Many. Most people do. But it benefits you none for me to tell you them. Truths are best learned when they are self-realized. As your therapist and friend, I can only be your anchor through these storms of self-actualization.”

  
     In times like this Will’s body almost buzzes with foreboding, like the acidic taste on your tongue before a lightning storm. It’s as if he were to stare into the dark orbs of Hannibal’s eyes long enough he will be able to see the rapture waiting for him on the other side. Will often wonders what will come of his attempts to capture Hannibal with Jack and the FBI; inferno or paradise.

  
     “Are you sure you’re not the deity on high creating the storm of my becoming?” Will asks, trying to keep his voice even despite the hum that spikes through him. Hannibal's gaze heats at his words causing the hum in Will’s body to spread down his abdomen. Its soon followed by a slight heat in his face as he realizes his comparison of Hannibal to God being the reason for Hannibal's pleasure. _Of course he would love that._

  
     “Have I told you I collect church collapses? There was one in Sicily just the other day, killed a whole congressional of worshipers. Is that not God?” Hannibal asks, smiling. “Is God not both storm and anchor? Creating both swans and typhoid?”

  
     The cold display of Hannibal’s nature flirting underneath the surface is like a splash of cold water on Will’s mind. The desire to get closer to the always shifting shadow battling against the logic telling him to stay away.

     “But you’re not God Hannibal.” Will says with a glare. “You preach a gospel of beauty and death to justify your twisted way.”

     “I only point out God to show how my humble actions pale in comparison.” Hannibal replies smoothly. A short dark chuckle escapes Will’s lips at the ludicrous of the statement and he rubs his jaw in thought.

  
     “Then does killing feel good to God too?” Will finally asks, the thoughts and memories from the dark corners of his mind dancing across his eyes.

  
     “Yes, for He does it all the time.” Hannibal replies, his accent husky and low. “Tell me Will, what is it that weighs heavy on your mind?”

  
     Will looks away from Hannibal, feeling as if he can somehow sense his macabre memories “My mind is riddled with regrets.”

  
     “What do you regret?”

  
     “All I can think of is the time in the stable with Clark Ingram.” Will says, recalling how Hannibal’s hand had stopped the trigger of his gun. The feeling of Hannibal’s hands on him, cradling his face in admiration. Will pushes past the memory, afraid he will get lost in the intimacy of it.

  
     “Then the guilt comes from the disassociation of your actions and emotions.” Hannibal replies, the coolness in his clinic evaluations the only sign of his disappointment. Will smiles at the misunderstanding, wondering if it’s causing Hannibal any self-doubt.

  
     “It would be more apt to say it was a mistake letting you stop me.”

  
     “Then your regret stems from not killing Clark Ingram effectively.” Hannibal says, only a small auditory change in his tone evidence of his pleasure.

  
     “All I can focus on is the burden of a missed opportunity.” Will says, his eyes searching the dark ones across from him. Will isn’t surprised to find understanding in those cold depths and his own need for it.

  
     “Then it’s important you take this mistake and adapt your actions from it Will.”

  
     “Adapt. Evolve. Become.” Will says, his voice caressing the syllables of each word.


	2. Chapter Two

     Jack’s call comes only a short time after Will’s therapy session with Hannibal ends. On his way towards Wolf’s Trap, Virginia, Will reaches for the throw away phone in his glove box and answers.

     “Meeting at our usual spot?” Jack asks in a brisk tone. Will smiles at the lack of formalities, something he has always appreciated in Jack’s friendship.

     “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Will replies just as bluntly before snapping the phone shut and stashing it again. The meetings with Jack to report on Hannibal was producing nothing, Will muses as he takes his exit. He also knew _something_ needed to change that he doubted Jack was willing to comprise on.

     Will pulls into the diner just as night settles on Virginia, tires crunching on uneven gravel before he pulls into an unmarked parking spot. It’s not so much a restaurant as it is a shack turned into a mom and pop business. A place with just enough grease in the air to coat everything in a thin layer of film, the last place Hannibal would be caught making it the perfect location for Will and Jack’s meet up. The thought of Hannibal in one of his three piece suits sitting at a worn booth with foam peeking out of the cushion, bathed in the washed out lights of the diner makes the corner of Will’s lips twitch in a barely contained smile.

     Putting on his glasses, he heads into the diner and sits at their normal booth where Jack is already waiting. They exchange just short greetings before ordering their usual. Only when the waitress has collected their menus and turned away with the orders does Jack cut to the chase.

     “Has Hannibal left us any openings to implicate him?” Jack asks in an expecting voice. Will keeps his face impassive at the unrelenting and annoying reliance Jack has on him. Will sometimes wonders what work Jack actually contributes to catching Hannibal, besides breathing down Will’s neck that is.

     “He’s given me nothing Jack. If we are waiting for Hannibal to slip up we are wasting our time. He won’t.”

     “Have you at least figured out how he’s choosing his victims? Despite how random they may seem, there has to be a connection. We find that connection, we catch him.” Jack replies, hunger in his eyes; for justice or revenge, Will doubts he’s able to distinguish them at this point.

     “How would I do that Jack? Should I ask him directly? Or should I look through his things while he’s in the room with me?” Will asks with an arched brow.

     “Are you suggesting we give up?” Jack asks through clenched teeth, leaning forward on the cracked linoleum table causing it to creek at the strain.

     “I am suggesting we change our strategy.” Will replies, not backing down from Jack’s flaring temper. Jack settles a little at Will’s words and leans back in the booth.

     “It’s obvious we need someone covering you, someone who wouldn’t raise suspicion if caught snooping on Hannibal and you.” Jack says being purposefully vague. Will immediately catches the hidden implication in his words.

     “Jack if you say Freddie Lounds…” Will warns, voice tense.

     “A media informant would be the least suspicious option, as well as it being a well-known fact that you and Freddie hate each other. You two working together would be an unpredictable move.”

     “Unpredictable because it’s not happening.” Will replies coolly. “You also need an informant to be reliable and reputable Jack; Freddie is neither.”

     Jack lets out a sigh and leans back in the booth, palms opening in a diplomatic display. “Fine, but you are the one that said we need to change our strategy. I’m open to suggestions.”

     “We need to focus on getting Hannibal to trust me.” Will replies automatically.

     “Hard to do when you had someone try and kill the man.”

     “Trying to have someone kill Hannibal didn’t negate his trust in me as much as my attempt to expose him did.” Will says, remembering how Hannibal’s dark eyes dilated when Will told him he still thinks about killing him. No he definitely didn’t hate the intimacy of those thoughts. “Despite the title of Chesapeake Ripper falling on Fredrick Chilton, Hannibal still can’t be sure I won’t try and expose him to the FBI.”

     “So we have to pacify Hannibal of your true intentions. I’m guessing you have a plan for that?” Jack asks, scratching his five o’clock shadow.

     “Nothing that will get sanctioned by the FBI.” Will says with a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, thankful for the glasses that obscure his gaze. Thinking about the fresh conversation with Hannibal, Will knows the missed opportunity wasn’t singular. In killing Clark Ingram, Will would have killed a killer and gained the trust of Hannibal.

     Not that those opportunities were even remotely in his mind at that time. Will’s mind was solely focused on the warmth of Hannibal’s close body and the quiet sense of power that washed over him in those moments. His senses taking in the damp barn and the cold air that stings his lungs with each breathe. The barn’s air, heavy with the musk of wet hay and the metallic smell of blood, sharpens his attachment to reality. Will could only imagine what Hannibal saw watching him stand there with the gun pointed at Ingram. He most likely looked as if he was frozen in a state of indecisiveness. In truth, he was reveling in the heady strength whirling in his body.

     “Will.” Jack says, snapping him out of his thoughts, the vision of the barn fading till he’s back in the diner. “I said we will think of a plan for Hannibal another day. Just keep your eye out for any opportunities.”

     “I’ve got all five senses on it Jack.” Will replies quickly to cover his lack of attention. “Just keep using the burner phone for all communication regarding Hannibal. The less tying us together outside the cases I consult on the better.”

     “Speaking of consulting, I got the final forensic details from Jimmy.” Jack says reaching into his briefcase to pull out a tan case file decorated in paperclips and gives it to Will. “No DNA evidence pinning Randall Tier to the crimes, but there might be something there. Any details you can glean may help prevent a next victim.”

     “Well there are two things you could say I’ve already ‘gleaned’ so far just from our interview with Randall.” Will says, accepting the case file and putting it on the worn booth next to him just as the food arrives.

     “I’m listening” Jack says once the waitress has walked away, taking a bite from his burger.

     “First, Randall is just getting warmed up with his kills; he’s getting more comfortable in his ‘skin’ you could say.” Will replies, taking a bite of a French fry. “Secondly, Hannibal wanted us to turn our sights on Randall Tier.”

     “Hannibal is always the helpful serial killer.” Jack grumbles, making Will chuckle.

“It’s hardly altruism Jack.” Will says before taking a bite of his burger.

     “You think Hannibal has a reason for telling us about Randall Tier?” Jack asks. Contemplating his answer, Will chews slowly before answering.

     “I think there are many layers to why Hannibal told us about Randall. And it has less to do with us finding out who he is and more about him finding out we are on to him.” Will says slowly, letting the words sink in. “People do unpredictable things when they are against a wall Jack. Hannibal Lecter is going to use that desperation to his advantage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the next one! XD I decided to post two tonight cuz I am excited to get this work out there.  
> thank you so much to everyone who reads my fanfiction. i hope my work gives you that little race in your pulse and that giddy grin on your face as you stare at your screen. The results in public causing people to look at you like the beautiful, weird creature you are.


	3. Chapter Three

     The room explodes in a flurry of fur and happy barks as Will unlocks the front door. He lets the dogs out, who bound happy through the snow. Laying the case file on his work desk, Will collapses in his arm chair with a sigh. Taking off his glasses, he rubs his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

     The forces of Hannibal and Jack collide like warm and cold fronts in his frontal lobe, the forces of their strong personality creating a tornado. _It should be illegal for me to have talk to them both in the same day_  Will thinks bitterly, grabbing the bottle of whiskey off the side table. Will pours himself two fingers of the amber liquid before reclining back in his chair. The abrasive drink clears his airways with a warm burn. _If only it could clear the unrest going on in my mind as well._

     Will raises the glass to take another sip just as he hears a chorus of growls and barks cut through the night. _The last time the dogs had made a ruckus like that they had a rabbit cornered under the barn_ Will thinks with a groan. He grabs his coat in a rush and heads out the door, hooking his arms in the sleeves as he stomps through the powdery snow.

     Outside, Will sees the dogs in the yard barking at the nearby tree line. An uneasy knot forms in Will’s stomach at the sight. Even in the darkness of the trees, Will can feel a gaze locked on him. Giving a sharp whistle, Will calls the dogs back inside who reluctantly return to the house. He’s about to close the door when he notices one of the dog beds empty. Cursing, Will grabs the shot gun that’s stored under his desk and runs back outside.

     The moon is high and full in the sky making sight easy with the moonlight reflecting off untouched snow. The trees, bare and looming, close the darkness around him as he heads into the forest. The soft whimpers from Buster leads Will immediately to his cowering form. Grabbing the small terrier, Will storms through the snow keeping his breath even as he runs. His mind is clear despite the static feeling of being stalked causing Will’s skin to prickle.

     Once inside, Will secures the door behind him. It will hardly keep Tier out in his animal form but at least it will delay him. Because without a doubt, Will knows what is stalking outside his house right now. Randall Tier has obviously gotten bolder in his choice of victim, but Will was going to be less than easy.

     Backing away from the front window and door, Will flicks off the light to his right plunging the room in darkness. With a deep breath, Will closes his eyes and lets the rustling of the dogs fade away as Will clears his mind. A dark form begins to uncoil itself in Will’s chest as he relaxes his body. Much like when he’s at a crime scene, Will feels an awakening in him. His ears prick at the sound of a snap to the left before chaos and glass rains on the room.

      Dodging the monstrous form, Will lands on his back with his gun poised at Randall Tier. Time slows as Will raises the gun and aims at the body encased in metal and bone. Randall freezes just as Will does, only for a completely different reason. Will’s body freezes as the dark form in his body rebels against the bulk of the rifle, the normally natural weight feeling awkward and clunky.

     With the gun still nestled against him, Will stands keeping it trained on Randall. The dark form in him whispers for blood and bone causing his body to buzz with opportunity. An opportunity to feel like he did killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs. An opportunity to regain the missed one with Clark Ingram. An opportunity he was going to savor.

     In one swift movement, Will discards the rifle on the ground. At the action, stillness reverberates in the air between Will and Randall as they stand facing each other. In an instant Randall tackles Will to the ground, the hardwood knocking the breath out of him. Before he can make another move, Will anticipates the action, using his forearm to keep the mechanical jaws from coming down on his face. With his other hand, Will punches Randal in the throat causing his Adams apple to convulse as he tries to take in air.

     Using the surprise as leverage, Will flips their positions so he is on the offense. Looking down on Randall, Will mercilessly strikes him over and over, his fists stinging at the connection. Randall’s nose easily gives with a pop as a current of sticky blood pours from it, perfuming the air with the sharp scent of sweat and iron. The dark form in Will chest blooms like a flower in the sun, absorbing the power and pain the blows bring.

     In the ecstasy of the moment, Will lets his mind take over to a dark fantasy. Randall Tier’s face, bloodied and broken, is replaced by that of Hannibal Lectors. Each strike to Hannibal bringing to surface in Will a hate purposefully buried. Anger for everything Hannibal had taken from him. Abigail. His Job. His stability. Will feels in himself an emptiness he no longer knows how to fill. A once filled cup now shattered and broken.

     Grabbing Hannibal’s neck, Will snaps it in one swift motion; savoring the vibration of broken vertebrae.

     Panting, Will stays straddling Randall’s broken form, the vision of Hannibal’s death evaporating like a mirage in a barren desert once reached. His body shivers at the quietness of the room and his mind; a mind once at war, now at peace. A quiet power radiates throughout his body as he catches his breath.

     Shifting to get up, Will is startled to feel stiffness against his leg, straining his pants. An unexpected groan escapes Will’s lips at the friction and thoughts of straddling Hannibal flash in his mind, ones that he quickly pushes away. Falling back from Randall’s body, Will forces himself to analyze the situation, denying himself the carnal desire he feels for more sobering thoughts.

     Will knows he can call Jack and the FBI will come and clean up the crime scene. The evidence of him being attacked by Randall would be fairly obvious by the broken window and his injured dog. Debating self-defense would be a little more difficult, considering the fact he snapped Randall’s neck, but shifting the story would resolve most of the questions. Plus, it was the death of a killer; justice served in Jack’s book. Despite the comfort of the obvious choice Will knows he won’t choose it.

     Will knows Randall didn’t get his address by chance. Hannibal is the only way he could have known that information short of breaking into the FBI. Randall Tier is a test for Will, and killing him is only the first part of it.

     Grabbing his phone, Will makes a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark!Will in the house! whoop whoop!  
> I am in the 'Dark!Will is my sexuality' club so it will be a common theme. But as dark as Will gets Hannibal will always be darker. ;)  
> I hope this chapter's ending isn't too much of a tease. the next two chapters will have us back to more Hannibal and Will. I also promise more dialogue coming up as well. it was nonexistent in this one cuz of the circumstance. i hope you guys like! i will be posting again on Saturday/Sunday depending on my schedule.


	4. Chapter Four

     Hannibal finds Will not far from where he had first called him, still clutching the outdated smart phone in his hand. Hannibal crouches next to Will who sits cross-legged on the ground leaning against his dresser; the broken body of Randall Tier lying not too far away. Hannibal stifles his elation and sets down his medical bag next to Will.

     Hannibal had felt himself physically relax when he saw the call from Will flash on his phone, a build-up of tension slowly dissipating into a warm glow of pride. Hannibal realizes the last time he had felt like that was when he sent Will to confront Tobias. His thoughts the day after sending Will to confront the killer had been the most clouded they had ever been.  That feeling had only turned to rage when Tobias had come into his office stating he had just killed two men causing Hannibal to suspect the worst. A beautiful teacup left shattered on the floor. His teacup to break and bring back together in a beautiful kintsugi. However, both times Will had become even more brilliant, a caterpillar molded through the chrysalis.

     “Are you alright?” Hannibal asks looking Will over, only spying superficial wounds. The pride in his chest threatens to burst at the work Will has done, only slighted by the fact that he did not get to see Will take a life with his own hands.

     “Physically, I’m doing better than Randall, but that’s not saying much.” Will states looking from Randall to Hannibal in a languid motion, the flippant response making Hannibal’s lips twitch. He immediately wonders what Will would be like drunk; something he decided to find out in the near future. Salacious thoughts spring to Hannibal’s mind at Will intoxicated and open to suggestion, his normal reserved nature subdued. 

     “Not saying much indeed.” Hannibal replies, mentally shaking himself free from the alluring thoughts.

     Satisfied Will isn’t in shock, Hannibal begins to take out medical supplies to tend to his wounds. He reaches for Will’s bloodied and raw hand first, finding himself anticipating the connection as well as wondering what the calloused hand will feel like. Will’s hand is warm in his for a moment before he pulls away and points to the sleeping form in his lap.

     “Him first.” Will says looking down at the brown and white terrier, three short cuts staining his fur crimson.

     “Of course.” Hannibal replies, masking his disinterest in the small dog with immediate action. His work in silence is short lived before Will breaks it.

     “You told Randall where I live.” Will states making Hannibal smile. _Brilliant boy._

     “Yes.” Hannibal replies, despite there being a lack of a question. He cleans the wounds of the dog with antiseptic, enjoying the turn of conversation. Will doesn’t respond immediately, only with a curt nod and pressed lips. Hannibal can tell Will is still lost in the power he felt from killing Randall, the after glow making his responses slow. The taking of a life is almost orgasmic in how the energy of the living transforms and becomes your own.  Hannibal feels almost high himself being in Will’s euphoric presence after his first real kill.

     “So I guess this makes us even.” Will states, staring at Hannibal for the first time, a mask of indifference marred by pools of blue darkness.

     “Reciprocity at its finest.” Hannibal concedes. “That is, if you assume I did it for that reason.”

     “I sent someone to kill you, you sent someone to kill me. Even Steven.” Will replies, ignoring alternate reasons purposefully.

     “I didn’t send Randall Tier here as revenge. He was actually a gift.” Hannibal says, applying gauze to the wounded dog.

     “Hate to see what you get me for Christmas.” Will says under his breathe, a tick Hannibal loathes and would love to beat out of him. An image of Will bent over his desk and Hannibal taking a riding crop to his exposed ass flashes before Hannibal’s eyes.

     “You are facetious when you deflect Will.” Hannibal says giving Will a stern look. “You said you had a missed opportunity with Clark Ingram, something I feel partially responsible for. I wanted to give you a new one. You didn’t disappoint.”

     Despite his scowl, Hannibal sees a flicker of pleasure at the praise in the depths of Will’s blue eyes. The scowl only makes Hannibal smirk deviously; the breaking of a temperamental stallion always being the biggest reward.

     Once he’s finished taping the gauze in place over the dogs wound, Hannibal looks at Will. “There, I gave him a light sedative as well.”

     The scowl fades away as Will softens at the gesture, the fondness of the dog clear by the protective circling of his arm. “Thank you.” Will replies before setting the sleeping dog in his bed amongst the others.

     “I believe I still have one more patient to treat.” Hannibal says, standing as well.  Will looks at his bloody hands almost as if he forgot about them.

     “You know I thought of you when I was killing Randall Tier.” Will finally says looking up at him. Hannibal can almost taste the tortured darkness pouring out of Will’s eyes at the confession.

     “As if I was guiding your hand or as if you were bringing down your own sense of justice upon me?” Hannibal asks, feeling his cock harden, delighted at either response. Will looks away from Hannibal as he answers.

     “Maybe both, I don’t know.” Will replies, his vagueness and slight blush piquing Hannibal’s interest.

     “Come, let me treat your injuries.” Hannibal says, not pressing him further. Hannibal directs him to an arm chair and Will obediently follows his lead causing Hannibal to almost purr in satisfaction. Sitting across from him, Hannibal takes Will’s hand in his and begins to examine it. Hannibal grabs supplies from his bag and starts to clean the bruised and raw knuckles. The tender action making Will squirm, or maybe it is how Hannibal kneels almost between Will’s legs. Hannibal’s mind races at the thought of what else would make Will squirm.

     “So, ummm… You say you sent Randall as a gift.” Will says, clearing his throat, obviously trying to distract the intimate position with conversation. Hannibal merely hums in confirmation as he starts to wrap bandages around Will’s hands. “If that’s the case, then why does it feel more like he was really sent to manipulate me?”

     “You can’t truly be manipulated if you are aware of the influence Will. You knew when Randall Tier showed up who sent him just as you knew what you would do. If anyone was manipulated it was Randall.” Hannibal says, glancing in the direction of the body with fake pity pulling his brows.

     “You still created that reality and that influenced the course of mine.” Will says looking at Hannibal, brow furrowed. “You are still playing God.”

     “On the contrary, the influence I had was a small link in the chain of events that created your reality. Your own choices created this.”

     “My choice?” Will asks with a scoff.

     “The choice to call me and not the FBI. The choice to kill Randall intimately.” Hannibal says glancing at the discarded gun before looking at Will again. “Even the choice to kill Randall at all. You should be proud of the choices you made Will. I know I am.”

     “Of course you are.” Will says glancing away from the knowing gaze, the fight slowly dissipating at Hannibal’s words. “I don’t know what to feel.”

     “Don’t go inside Will. Don’t over think that moment.” Hannibal coaxes, cupping Will’s face, enjoying the feel of light stubble there. “Just think of how killing Randall made you feel. That moment is real and that feeling is the rawest form of you.”

     “I felt…” Will starts, running his bandaged hand over his face. “I felt like a drowning man who could finally breathe. The clarity of it… it was like I was finally in my body for the first time. It felt right.”

     The final admission falls out of Will’s mouth barely above a whisper causing a smile to tug at the corner of Hannibal’s lips. “Then it sounds like you owe Randall Tier a debt. How should we repay him?”

     Will looks at Randall Tier still broken inside his mechanical, animalistic suit. “He should be immortalized in the only form he felt like himself.”

     Hannibal grabs a scalpel out of his medical bag and hands it to Will. “Adapt. Evolve. Become.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing a chapter in Hanni's POV was so nerve racking. He's an enigma and intimidating to write so I hope I did this splendid character justice while also hinting at kinky things to come. ;)


	5. Chapter Five

     Will walks into the house right behind Jack. Antique furniture from relatives and yard sales creates an elaborate maze of the floor space with books and clutter filling ever flat surface. The room can only be described as organized chaos, the house of a man who knows where every screw or tool is despite the haphazard layout. The living room is filled to the brim with knick-knacks except for the center coffee table that is the main stage. The front bay window allows light to spill in like a spot light, illuminating dust particles that dance around the macabre scene.

     Like a twisted marionette doll, the mechanical skeleton of the cave bear is held aloft by metal wires. The skin of Randall Tier is grafted to the synthetic bones like ill-fitting clothes, stretched in an attempt to conceal the massive form. The absurdity of trying to fit the skin of a man to a cave bear skeleton almost makes Will erupt into a fit of laughter at the thought. An image of a cartoon wolf zipping up into sheep’s clothing flashes in Will’s minds like a scene from a long ago viewed Saturday cartoon. And wasn’t that what Randall Tier really was, a wolf in sheep’s clothing?

 _It would almost be comical_ , Will thinks, _if I couldn’t still feel the warm blood of Randall soaking my latex gloves as Hannibal shows me how to properly cut the skin from muscle and fat._

     “Wires secure the mechanical frame and they connect to anchors in the ceiling to keep it suspended.” Jimmy explains to Jack and Will as they approach, shaking Will back to the crime scene.

     “We also found mechanical parts in the garage and have already tested them for blood. Randall Tier was definitely our Cave Bear killer.” Bryan says, camera in hand as he takes pictures of the suspended beast.

     “How was the body discovered?” Hannibal asks, stepping through the door way past a forensic team dusting the front door for prints. The previous held together calmness of Will’s disposition stirs like ripples in a pond at the sound of Hannibal’s even timbre.

     “I sent a squad car to the museum where Randall works to bring him in for an official statement of his whereabouts during the two crimes. When the museum director said he hadn’t come into work, the officers got his address and came here. It only took looking through the window of the front door to see the fucked up scene inside.” Jack says, looking up at the hanging display.

     “Instead of wearing the suit it looks like the suit wore him.” Jimmy quips, humor intact as he meanders about the body. “It really is amazing craftsmanship the way the skin is stretched and stitched over the skeleton.” The crew gives each other a collective look at Jimmy’s morbid and blasé outlook before continuing to work the crime scene.

     “Was there any other blood found in the house?” Will asks, crouching down to look at the scattered blood droplets on the faded, water-ringed coffee table.

     “None that’s fresh.” Brian replies in a grim voice.

     Will walks to the front of the skeleton and looks at the face of Randall Tier. The face lays in perfect alignment to the teeth of the bear jaw giving the illusion of the face contorting in a vicious growl. Blood from the skin smears the teeth adding animation, as if the beast had just taken a life and not the reverse.

     Will doesn’t need to look around to feel the forensic team start to trickle from the room. They knew the drill by now. Only the forms of Jack and Hannibal remain, staying politely distant near the door way. Will looks one more time at the grafted face before closing his eyes. Breathing deeply, Will lets the ambient noise of a pendulum sway, clearing his mind. The crime scene slowly erases as time reverses till only the quiet, disheveled living room remains. The memories of the night before come too easy to Will in the quiet space of his mind, fluid video of the previous night playing like a movie behind closed eyes.

      _'I don't think I can do this.’ Will say with a gasps, mentally pretending the lack of breath is from the exertion of him and Hannibal wrestling the clothing from Randall’s stiff body. Even with cutting the clothes off, the process takes them a while as they maneuver the body to remove all scraps of fabric._

_Now facing the task ahead, Will feels his stomach clench and blood freeze. His breath comes in little pants at the sinking realization of what he’s about to do. Will tries to control his erratic breathing as he feels a panic attack on the precipice of his psyche. Hannibal’s hands find him then, rubbing large soothing circles in his back._

_‘You can, Will.’ Hannibal says, his voice a distant hypnotic sound behind him. The tone and motions soothe Will causing the frantic pants to dissipate but his pulse still thrums in an insistent beat. ‘You’ve come so far already. Don’t let the waves of doubt pull you under.’_

_'I don’t have the same taste for this as you do Hannibal’ Will says bitterly. He catches the double meaning in his words which causes Will to groan just as Hannibal chuckles. ‘You know what I mean.’_

_‘I do.’ Hannibal replies, mirth still lacing his words. ‘And I will be here the whole time to help you refine your palate.’_

_Cool metal is pressed into Will’s hand causing him to look down. Will’s mind absorbs Hannibal’s own double meaning as he looks down at the scalpel reflecting in the overhead light bulb. The once pacified anxiety raising its head again in his chest making the words fall out. ‘No, not that… not…’_

_Will stops, forcing the words back down his throat. He knows he doesn’t need to finish the thought, the unspoken words like a lit up neon sign in the room. Will reels at the inevitability in his words; confused at how, ‘not yet’, is his response to the pressure from Hannibal to consume human flesh. Will can feel Hannibal’s hum of approval as he wraps his arms around him, taking Will’s hands in his._

_‘That’s fine Will.’ Hannibal replies, content for the time being. ‘This is, after all, your gift.’_

_Will’s pulse quickens at the touch, something he is sure Hannibal can feel against their connected bodies. Hannibal’s body, pressed flushed against Will’s back, is intrusive while being not too much. The touch sensual despite the lack of any skin on skin; clothing and latex gloves barriers between them. The fact does little to prevent the heat of Hannibal’s body soaking into Will’s bones. He shivers into the warmth, just now realizing his own chill._

_‘Is the position really necessary Hannibal?’ Will bites out, trying to stay calm. His words come out harsh and rigid, something Will finds preferable to him losing his shit completely. Will expects a witty retort about the position being the best way to demonstrate proper technique but instead he gets a chuckle._

_‘Not necessarily, no.’ Hannibal replies, guiding Will’s hand that holds the scalpel across Randall Tiers shoulder. The scalpel sinks in easily, going about a centimeter or so in before Hannibal drags it towards them. Blood begins to swell from the incision, trickling down the body on to the tarp underneath. Will forces himself to breathe through his nose, counting internally on each inhale and exhale, mentally trying to force himself into the mind set of gutting a fish._

_‘Why then?’ Will asks between counted breathes, words coming out mechanical and detached. At the question, Hannibal further nuzzles into Will’s ridged and tense body; his chin resting on his shoulder._

_‘You’re not the only one who is taking advantages of opportunities tonight Will.’ Hannibal murmurs, his breathe tickling the shell of Will’s ear. Will is suddenly very aware of the broad chest against his back and the intimate connection of their lower bodies. The encircling of his arms around Will making Hannibal’s slightly large frame seem all the more intimidating. Will shifts nervously, only to grind his body against Hannibal, the action causing Hannibal’s cock to harden against Will’s ass. A lump jumps into Will’s throat at the friction and soft growl that escapes Hannibal._

_‘Doing that would be unwise my dear William.’_

     Will snaps out of the memory in an instant, body flushed and heart beat thrumming in his chest. He takes a couple deep breathes to dispel the lingering images before turning to Jack and Hannibal. Both men’s eyes are on him as he turns to them, one with concern and the other with mild amusement. Will tries to keep a scowl from his face when he glances at Hannibal, trading it for an impassive look he doubts he actually pulls off. Will’s irritation at Hannibal is hard to stifle when he sees the amusement in his eyes, as if Hannibal could see into his mind and know the exact moment that was replayed there.

     Will hardly knows how to feel towards Hannibal after their night together, a night behind the veil with the real Hannibal. Like a tangible thing, Will could almost see his and Hannibal’s connection like spider webs tying them together. A shift had formed in their relationship, something Will found himself not analyzing. Will knew he was ignoring it in an attempt to not give it life, treating it like a plant in the corner he refused to water in hopes it would shrivel and die.

     It was a poor attempt really, the relationship more like a force of nature than a plant he could ignore. The pull between them feeling like polar sided magnets. If he thought he knew the mind of Hannibal before, Will felt like he could almost read it now, his empathic link sensing exactly what to say to entice Hannibal further.

     “It was a gift.” Will finally says walking around the suspended form. “The killer of Randall knew what he was, hence why he killed him this way. A killer himself, he wanted to honor Randall even in death.”

     “This was hardly a normal killing.” Jack replies. “Are you saying the killer of Randall Tier was another serial killer?”

     “It’s hard to say because the killing itself was passionate.” Will replies, his eyes pulled together in what he hopes is a pensive look; his acting eliciting a barely contained smirk from Hannibal. “However, the displaying of the body shows admiration. He wanted Randall to finally have his outside match who he felt he truly was.”

     Jack sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “I understand the mutilation, or as much as I can of the messed up situation, but why kill Randall at all if they are both killers?”

     “There is evidence on the face of bruising Jack.” Hannibal says, gesturing towards the front of the skeleton, joining in on the game as well. “Clear signs of an altercation before Randall Tier was killed.”

     “So Randall Tier chose a new victim only to choose horribly wrong.” Jack comments. Will has to resist rolling his eyes at Jack’s ignorance and ability to only be able to grasp simple concepts if spelled out to him. It was almost hysterical that Jack was standing talking with Randall's two killers without even the faintest idea. Will knew he would tell him eventually, but for now it was fun watching from the outside.

     “Precisely.” Hannibal replies, looking at Will. His maroon gaze seems to pierce through Will, making him shift at the abrasion. “Like a snake seeking out prey only to realize it has cornered a mongoose instead.”

     “Well regardless of Randall’s crimes, I want us to focus on catching his killer.” Jack says over his shoulder as he heads out the door. “Whether it’s his first kill or hundredth, I don’t need another Chesapeake Ripper on my hands. This new killer has an affinity for violence that is unlikely to stop.”

     “I couldn’t agree more Jack.” Hannibal replies, shooting a sultry smile in Will’s direction before it recedes back behind his composed mask.

     Will and Hannibal follow Jack out the door, falling into step next to each other like a man and his shadow. They just make it outside of the house before there is a flash of a camera. Bright red hair is all Will needs to see before pulling up his collar and turning away.

     “Great, Freddie Lounds.” Will says with a groan. “The way she follows the FBI around is incessantly annoying.”

     “She does seem to have a fondness for crime scenes.” Hannibal comments standing tall next to Will’s shrunken form; Will gives a humorless huff.

     “More like a morbid curiosity.” Will grumbles, actively ignoring Freddie’s waving and beckoning form from behind the yellow police tape.

     “A morbid curiosity is an apt way of putting it.” Hannibal says hiding a smile behind the devious glint in his eyes. “Now what’s that saying about curiosity and the cat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unimportant side note: I changed up Randall Tier's death and mutilation a little bit just for believably sake. Don't get me wrong, Hannibal is amazing with awesomely gory death scenes but it can be a tad far fetched sometimes. Its like, you mean to tell me Hannibal and Will were able to sneak into this museum with a bag filled with this guys skin, graft it to the skeleton and leave with out anyone catching them? sorry but i call bullshit. :p


	6. Chapter Six

     Will’s anger pulses through him as he drives away from Quantico; needing to put as much distance between him and FBI headquarters. The distance though does little to settle his rage, but distance from Jack was the real goal. Will can still feel his hand twitching on the steering wheel, his skin tingling with the urge to punch something, or someone.

     Will knows frustration towards Jack isn’t uncommon for him but the audacity in Jack’s behavior recently was boarding on conceited arrogance. The week since Randall Tier’s death had been a busy one for Will since he was called on by the FBI to consult as the profiler. The irony of working the case became too much pretty soon since Will couldn’t really write up a profile on himself. Telling Jack about what happened that night was the top priority as soon as he was away from Hannibal. Explaining the situation of being Randall Tier’s murderer and Hannibal’s assistant in the mutilation was going to be an awkward and difficult conversation with Jack, but Will figured he would appreciate results over excuses.

     The main conflict with Will’s plan to repent being that Jack was impossible to track down. Not wanting to wait till their weekly meet up at the diner and, doubting the conversation would be welcomed on the phone, Will could only try and speak to Jack at Quantico. However; by the time Will finally cornered Jack in his office the exchange went less than expected.

     _‘Ah, Will. Just the man I wanted to see. Where’s your profile on Randall Tier’s killer? I thought I said to have it to me by Sunday.’ Jack says, not even glancing up from the papers he’s moving around his desk._

_'I actually wanted to talk to you about that. I haven't finished the profile yet, I want to…’ Will starts before Jack cuts him off._

_'You haven’t finished it yet?’ Jack asks, voice thick with an incredulous tone before his temper raises its head. ‘So you don’t have the profile finished and have yet to get anything substantial on Hannibal. So what is it that you’ve been doing exactly? Because so far, I haven’t seen any results.’_

_‘It takes time with intelligent psychopaths like Hannibal.’ Will says, trying to cut through Jacks anger with reason, only to feel his own outrage raising his voice. ‘We have to lure him…’_

_'Oh, I remember what you said Will, and I remember you also saying that you were a good fisherman.’ Jack says, stalking around the desk towards Will. ‘But you know what I think? I think you are the one being lured.’_

_Will’s jaw clenches closed at the accusation but he forces his mouth into a sneer. ‘Why are you beating around the bush Jack? Just come out and say what you really think already.’_

_'Fine. I think you are too caught up in Hannibal’s charms to do your job.’ Jack growls back, not backing down from Will’s challenge. ‘Until Hannibal is caught you’re not consulting on any more cases. It’s clear that catching the Chesapeake Ripper is all you can handle.’ With that, Jack turns back to his desk essentially dismissing Will._

     Will drives on autopilot as he tries to calm his breathing at the memory, his hands gripping the steering wheel like it’s the one he wants to wring his frustrations out on. Only when he’s pulling down a familiar street does he realize where his subconscious has brought him. Will feels his anger settle a little at the sight of Hannibal’s house, the need to vent to an understanding ear, like a sinner at a confessional, a comforting idea. It wasn’t only the need to vent though, Will realizes. Hannibal’s objective logic and introspective outlook being something he craves and appreciates from their relationship.

     Only after Will is headed towards Hannibal’s front door do slivers of doubt begins to creep through his anger and fervent need _. What am I supposed to tell Hannibal anyway? Yeah I’m pissed at Jack because he removed me from the case I was consulting on. Why? Oh no reason other than that fact that he thinks I’m incapable of catching you and doing my job at the same time._ Will snorts at the thought.

     Despite being unable to fully explain the extent of the situation, Will finds himself hesitating for another reason, something more difficult to put his finger on. Will realizes they have yet to make friendly visits to each other’s house since Will had been released from Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane; since he found out who Hannibal really is. They were now only ever alone together during their therapy session; any other time they were in the company of others. But since the night Will killed Randall it almost seemed like their relationship had shifted back to what it had been before he knew Hannibal was a killer.

     The shift in their relationship this time was slightly different though, Will’s knowledge of who Hannibal really was made the relationship more intimate, beyond just a friendship. Killing Randall Tier had worked better than Will would have thought, breaking down the barrier between him and Hannibal in one night. Will’s mind flutters back to the memories of Hannibal’s body enveloping him as they mutilated Randall’s body. That moment a breakdown of boundaries and barriers in all aspects: physically, mentally and socially, the thought makes Will quiver.

     “Will?” says a voice behind him causing Will to snap to attention like a teenager caught with his hands in his pants. Turning towards the voice, Will finds himself frozen and slack jawed at the figure in front of him.

     Hannibal stands not too far away in workout clothes looking the most casual Will has ever seen him, and he’s seen Hannibal in his pajamas and robe before. Those of course had looked even regal despite being sleep wear, the robe alone appearing to be made of cashmere. Now, however, Hannibal is dressed in sweat pants and a fitted Underarmor sweatshirt, one that hugs his toned upper body and broad shoulders, showing off his body in the best way possible. That coupled with his disheveled hair and lips parted as he catches his breath, winded from an assumed run, has Will floored.

     “Is there something I can help with, Will?” Hannibal asks, clearly noticing Will’s roaming gaze. The question finally snaps Will out of his trance causing him to look away quickly, finding the scenery of Hannibal’s front yard a little too interesting.

     “I wanted to talk to you.” Will says, cringing at the obvious explanation. Hannibal only smiles in amusement and lets him continue. “What I mean is…I was upset and not thinking straight so I came here. I’m sure you’re busy. It’s not important so I can wait to talk to you at our next therapy session.” Will starts to turn back to his car when Hannibal stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

     “I am actually free for the rest of the evening. If you don’t have prior arrangements you are more than welcome to stay for dinner.” Hannibal says pacifying Will’s worry of intrusion.

     For reasons he’s not sure of, Will feels his mouth dry and has to swallow before he’s able to speak; his pulse thrumming in his throat. “Yeah, sounds good.”

     With that, Hannibal leads Will into the house and through his spacious living room. Much like his office, Hannibal’s house is decorated more like a museum than a home with each painting, vase and statue artfully selected and placed. Will usually finds himself looking at the various pieces hanging on the wall or scanning his book shelves. This time Will finds himself hardly caring for the décor, more interested in the way Hannibal’s sweater accentuates his shoulder blades. The visual pat down of Hannibal’s back side is short lived when Hannibal stops in his study and turns towards Will.

     “You seem to be staring Will. Is there something wrong?” Hannibal asks, a knowing glint in his eyes. Will tries to looks unflustered and walks towards a book shelf and grabs a random book from it.

     “I’ve just never seen you in something so casual, let alone sweat pants.” Will teases with a smirk, hoping he sounds casual.

     “While I appreciate an immaculate suit, they are less than ideal to work out in.” Hannibal jests back. “However; I doubt my less than normal attire is why you were staring. Tell me Will, are you sexually attracted to me?”

     Will feels his mouth pop open at the direct question, his rapid pulse kicking into full gear causing his throat to constrict. It takes a moment for his dry mouth to swallow past the constriction so he can respond. “I don’t know what you mean.”

     Hannibal’s eyes are dancing with mirth as Will flusters under his scrutiny. “I thought we swore we would be honest with each other Will. Weren’t you the one that said you prefer sins of omission to outright lies?”

     Will’s blood cools at his words being thrown back at him. “What makes you think I’m lying?”

     At his challenge, Hannibal approaches Will with lethal, predatorily grace. Will takes an involuntary step back at Hannibal’s approach only to bump into the book shelf behind him. His anger dissipates as Hannibal boxes him in, arms outstretched on either side of his head. Hannibal’s too close form seeming to burn all the oxygen around Will making it hard for him to breathe.

     “Sin of omission or honesty, which is it Will?” Hannibal asks sternly. Will feels words of denial form on his tongue but swallows them back and clenches his jaw. Hannibal smiles, eyes traveling from Will's lips to his eyes. “Sin of omission then.”

     Will glares defiantly back. “What are you getting at Hannibal?”

     Hannibal leans back and drops his arms from the shelf on either side of Will’s head, grabbing the forgotten book from his hands. “I’m merely pointing out another facet of our relationship that could be taken advantage of.”

     Will feels his mouth pop open in shock for the second time that day. He had expected Hannibal to have something up his sleeve but was hardly expecting a proposition. _It’s almost absurd_ Will thinks _a world in which I could trust Hannibal enough to be physical with him._ The urge to reject the unspoken offer is immediate but the logical side of Will’s brain pulls back the hastily rising refusal.

 _Isn’t this what you have been waiting for? The opportunity you’ve been waiting for? Accept this and you will be that much closer to getting Hannibal’s trust and catching him. **Yeah and all I have to do is sleep with a serial killer right?** It doesn’t have to come that far if you play your cards right. And if so, would your actually care? _Will glances at Hannibal’s lips and travels lower, stifling a groan. **_No…_**

     Will bites his lip; despite already making his decision, he measures his responses as less than certain. “You make it sound easy Hannibal, but it’s not. You are my psychiatrist after all.”

     “I believe we over stepped that boundary the night in your barn, don’t you?” Hannibal asks, making Will huff out a short laugh.

     “True. Social norms are light years away from our relationship, professional or otherwise. But what of your relationship with Alana? Are you also propositioning for a ménage a trois affair?” Will asks, voice sarcastic but strained.

     Hannibal’s eyes darken at the question, anger flashing too fast before it’s gone. “No Will, I ended mine and Alana’s relationship recently.”

     “How recently?” Will asks, pulse sky rocketing at the anticipated answer.

     “Saturday evening.” Hannibal replies. _Two days after I killed Randall Tier._ Will thinks, knowing the implications behind the reason. Before Will can ask another question, Hannibal is turning for the door. “If you’ll excuse me Will, I need to go shower and change. I’ll be down shortly if you want to help me prepare dinner. As for my proposition, I don’t expect an immediate answer. Think it over and we can discuss it more later.”

      And with that Hannibal disappears from the room, leaving Will’s head heavy with thoughts. Almost in a mist, Will sits down in a high-backed arm chair near the unlit hearth.  The book Hannibal had taken from him resting on the side table, and Will finds himself picking it up to look at the title. The Iliad shines back in etched gold lettering on the worn, leather cover.

     Will opens the book, the worn spine and leather groaning at the endeavor. The pages are yellow with age and give a musty quality to the air that Will greedily breathes in. He’s hardly surprised to find the book has the original Greek version on one side of the page with the English translation on the other. Will wonders if it’s purely for aesthetics or if Hannibal actually knows Greek, either being a possibility. He settles into the chair to read when the silence of the house dawns on him.

     He’s in Hannibal’s house… alone. Well not really alone, Hannibal being upstairs showering, but as alone as he has ever been in Hannibal’s house. Mind racing, Will mentally estimates how long it will take Hannibal to shower and change before he is down stairs again. Ten minutes seems safe Will guesses and he’s already lost a minute.

     Almost jumping from the chair, Will runs to the desk at the far side of the room next to Hannibal’s harpsicord. Searching the desk takes Will barely a minute and ends with him only finding sketching supplies and, of course, scalpels which Hannibal insists on using to sharpen his pencils with. Searching the rest of the room is just as fast, leaving Will empty handed and shorter on time.

     Standing in the center of the study, Will looks at the two doors leading from it; one that goes to an office and the upstairs, the other to the kitchen and dining room. He would only have time to search one more room but, despite the office being the more obvious choice, Will finds himself turning away from it. _Hannibal is far from obvious;_ Will thinks as he heads towards the kitchen. _And where else would you find evidence on a cannibal serial killer but the kitchen?_

     The search of the kitchen takes longer than the study but produces the same results, normal objects of no incriminating value. Will checks the last cabinet feeling down trodden, already sensing the time of his search dwindling and baring no fruit. Seeing spices, Will almost closes it immediately when he sees a wooden box on the top shelf. Reaching up, he slides it off and opens the lid to find a smaller box inside and a rolodex. Will opens the smaller box first to see recipes cards that are all hand written in Hannibal’s elegant calligraphy. Leaving the recipe cards, Will focuses on the rolodex and flips through it to see it’s filled with business cards from a wide range of practices. Anything from accountant to mechanic to doctor is in the rolodex, making Will’s brow furrow in bewilderment. _Why would a meticulous man like Hannibal put business cards in the same box as recipe cards?_

     Almost as soon as the thought runs through Will’s head does cold realization seep in making him gasp. Taking out his cell phone, Will snaps pictures of the evidence and tries to get as many pictures of the business cards as he can. He then emails them to his home computer before deleting all of them from his phone. Putting the box back, Will scurries back to the study with his heart in his throat.

     Will has barely settled back in the chair with the book in his lap when Hannibal enters the room. The close call makes Will want to let out a sigh of relief, but instead he keeps his breath steady and even. He doesn’t even look up from the book, afraid Hannibal will see the discovery in his eyes. Will instead let’s his eyes skim over the page like he’s deep into the story when in reality he’s not absorbing a single word, so much so that he might as well be reading the Greek side of the page. Only when Hannibal draws nearer does Will look up from the text, in what he hopes is a neutral face.

     “Would you still like to help me in the kitchen or are you too enthralled in the epic of Achilles and Patroclus conquering the city of Troy?” Hannibal asks, a lightness in his eyes as he looks down at Will.  In response, Will shuts the book and stands, putting the book in its rightful place back on the shelf before he turns to Hannibal. Sad to see the workout clothes gone, Will is surprised in the lack of a three piece suit as well. Instead Hannibal is dressed in black dress pants and a maroon button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a tie forgone with the top two buttons of the shirt undone. The casualness of Hannibal’s clothing today falling under uncharacteristic but welcomed, as Will looks Hannibal over, his breath hitching in appreciation.

     They begin walking towards the kitchen before Will responds to Hannibal. “Patroclus didn’t conquer Troy with Achilles though. He wore Achilles’ armor on the battle field and died for him there.”

     “He did.” Hannibal says with a smile. “Hiding and revealing identity is a constant theme throughout the Greek epics.”

     “As are battle-tested friendships.”

     “Patroclus and Achilles were more than battle-tested friends.” Hannibal replies in a teasing tone as he takes produce from the fridge.

     Will huffs and glares pointedly at Hannibal. “And is there a Greek epic that doesn’t have homoerotic undertones?”

     Will’s indignation makes Hannibal chuckle. “None of the good ones.”

     Hannibal drops the subject in favor of prepping the food, giving Will simple tasks like dicing the vegetables and herbs. Upon cooking the food does Hannibal start the conversation again which pulls Will from his dazed state at the counter. The conversation interrupting him from sipping his wine as he watches Hannibal’s skilled hands.

     “You said you were upset over something earlier.” Hannibal probes, eyes still on the task at hand.

     Will blinks at Hannibal’s words and is slow to respond, the previous argument with Jack seeming like it happened days ago. “I was.” Will states clearing his throat. “Still am, I’ve just cooled down from the initial exchange.”

     “Would you still like to talk about it?”

     Will chuckles and is surprised that he still does, the need to vent still heavy on his chest. “Jack took me off the Randall Tier case.”

     Hannibal looks away from the stove with a neutral face but the act itself tells a lot of his surprise, not many things being able to draw him away from his culinary masterpieces. “What was his reason?”

     “I didn’t create a profile on Randall’s killer, seemed a little odd to profile myself. So I opted not to.” Will says with a shrug, trying to sound indifferent.

     “Then professionally speaking, the reason was just.” Hannibal replies, going back to sautéing. “I assume the way Jack handled it was less than ideal though.”

     Will laughs. “That would be an accurate assumption. He basically told me I was incompetent and kicked me out of his office.”

     “Jack is an opportunist; he doesn’t appreciate it when his pawns don’t move as he plans them to.” Hannibal says, tossing the pan with a flourish before he starts to plate the food. “You entered into a devil’s bargain with Jack; he will use you for his gain until viciousness consumes you.”

     “Isn’t calling Jack the devil a bit like the pot calling the kettle black?” Will asks sardonically as he follows Hannibal into the dining room. “And aren’t you doing the same thing, using me for your own gain?”

     “In what way do you believe I am using you Will?” Hannibal asks, as he places the food in front of Will and takes his own seat. Will contemplates the question as he sips his wine, feeling the alcohol buzzing through his system making his thoughts jumbled.

     “Like you do with everyone else, for your own amusement.” Will replies looking pointedly at Hannibal.

     “I see we are still a ways away from forgiveness and trust.” Hannibal replies, voice somber. “Tell me, is it still light years away for you Will?”

     “That’s a sanctimonious question to ask Doctor Lector, when the majority of the time I am speaking to you through your human suit.”

     “A fair enough assessment.” Hannibal concedes, picking up his fork with artful grace. He takes a bite and Will can hardly draw his gaze from Hannibal’s lips enveloping the prongs. He chews slowly and swallows in what couldn’t possibly be sexually attractive but is, making Will take another sip of wine. “If you agree to a more _familiar_ relationship I will work on that.”

     Mid-drink, Will almost spits up his wine on Hannibal’s stark white table cloth but manages to keep it down. Clearing his throat of the liquid, Will shuffles the food around his plate. “What are the terms of the agreement if I were to accept?”

     “They are up to you Will, I’m fine with whatever you are willing to give.” Hannibal replies smoothly.

     “Oh…kay.” Will says with a huff as he sets down his silverware, stomach in his throat making even the mouthwatering food seem unappealing. He was probably about to make Hannibal eat those words. “I only have one.”

     Hannibal sets down his own cutlery at the statement, enraptured at Will’s agreement. He realizes Hannibal most likely didn’t expect him to accept, Will could hardly believe he was as well. He couldn’t deny the allure of trying; leaving the past behind them and giving into the carnal feelings seemed almost easy.

     However, despite his attraction towards Hannibal, it was hard to overcome the past behind them. A relationship built on betray, blood and death was not something they could likely overcome. That’s why Will feels certain in his decision as he says his only term. “I’ll agree to a physical relationship with you as long as there is no penetration.”

     Will almost wishes he could have taken a picture of Hannibal the moment he said those words as it was possibly the only time he was ever going to make the Chesapeake Ripper dumbfounded. That fact alone is worth the redness Will feels in his face at the statement. He breaks eye contact to he down the rest of his wine, unsure how he wants Hannibal to respond.

     Reanimation comes slow to Hannibal as the words sink in and he regains his air of assuredness. Picking his silverware back up, he resumes his meal. “I assume you mean it as a mutually held agreement?”

     “Yes, Hannibal.” Will says with a smile, mentally rolling his eyes. _As if I meant it any other way._

     “Then can I purpose a term of my own?” Hannibal asks. Curious, Will nods. “Can we leave all terms subject to withdrawal, should a situation arise that makes you change your mind.”

     Will almost laughs at the certainty in Hannibal’s words, as if he knows Will would change his mind after an evening of hot romance. Will instead scoffs. “Sure Hannibal, we can leave terms up to negotiation.”

     A devious smile crosses Hannibal’s face as soon as he agrees, making Will wonder what he just got himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you all enjoyed! longest chapter yet but it had a lot in it! things are picking up on the Hannigram front and there is smut soon too come. ;)


	7. Chapter Seven

     A knock sounds at the door behind Will just as he is kicking off his shoes. Loosening his tie, Will walks over to the door, confused at who would come to his house at this time of night. Will had just gotten home from having dinner with Hannibal and was content to spend the rest of the evening relaxing with his dogs and mulling over his contract with the devil. Clearly though, that wasn’t going to be an option.

     Will peeks through the front door curtain to see who it is and rolls his eyes before immediately opening the door to let her in. Next to Jack, she is the only other person who would just come to his house unannounced. And they both probably did it out of a sense of entitlement.

     Margot Verger walks through his front door with her normal commanding presence and prickly demeanor, her long tawny hair curled and pulled to one side. She gives a sultry smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes and extends a bottle to Will. “I came to replenish your whiskey.”

     Will takes the bottle and notices the label, quality not even close to the brand he would normally buy. It was a nice gesture, but Will doubts it comes without strings attached like most nice gestures in life. Most things people do are on the surface unselfish and kind but in reality are usually for the soul reason to get a favor or, worse of all, for self-congratulation. Regardless of which, though most likely the first, Will is interested to see what those strings are attached to.

     “Thank you.” Will says as he closes the door behind Margot, who haphazardly discards her thick fur coat on the nearby chair. Will glares at the coat and arches an eyebrow at her. “Since you are set on making yourself at home, I guess I’ll pour us a glass.”

     “It would be appreciated; both your hospitality and the drink.” Margot replies, words both mocking and teasing. A wiry smile turns Will’s lips up as he heads into the kitchen to grab some high ball glasses and pours them a drink.

     “You are looking nice today.” Margot comments as Will returns with the glasses of whiskey and hands one to her. She sits perched on the side of the armchair while Will sits close by on his bed. “Special occasion?”

     “No, just work.” Will replies, taking a drink. “About the only good habit Hannibal has rubbed off on me is a better fashion sense.” Though Will realizes his attempt at fashion has less to do with being unable to dress well and more to do with not caring enough to before Hannibal. The way Hannibal’s gaze raked over his body when he wore a suit bordered on sin, something Will found himself quickly getting addicted to. Before today he had thought the lust came from Hannibal’s fetish for high fashion, not from him. Will’s stomach does a little flip at the thought.

     “The only good one? Odd for a psychiatrist though, based on my own sessions with him, I’m not surprised.” Margot muses, taking a sip from her glass. “Just makes me wonder what bad habits he’s rubbed off on you.”

     “Why are you really here Margot?” Will asks, shutting down all conversations about Hannibal instantly, officially done being coy.

     “Can’t I just come over solely to enjoy your company?” Margot replies innocently.

     “That would make sense if I was good company.” Will retorts, making the sentence even truer. Margot seems unfazed by the quip and just smiles.

     “Maybe verbal company wasn’t what I meant.” She replies before setting down her whiskey. Margot walks over to him, takes his glass and sets it on the table next to hers. Grabbing his tie, she strokes the material as she settles a knee on the bed between Will’s legs. With confident movements she pulls Will to her by his loosened tie, eyes flickering from his mouth to his eyes before she captures his lips with hers.

     The whole occurrence seems surreal, like an odd dream, and Will finds himself waiting for Margot to pull back and tell him it’s a joke. Only when Will feels the stroke of a tongue against his bottom lip does it become less than a joke, his cock stirring at the wet caress.

     Will pulls away fast, holding Margot back with hands on her shoulder, as if she might attack him with another kiss. Confusion colors his face as he tries to form words. “I don’t have the right parts for your proclivities, Margot.”

     Margot gives a slight shrug at this and continues to look Will over, gaze wandering back to his lips and then lower. “My sexual proclivities may lean more in one direction but that doesn’t mean I limit myself to it.” She continues as she brings a hand up to stroke Wills jaw, fingers brushing against stubble. “A person is so much more than their sex.”

     “Are you bisexual then?” Will asks, arousal being overcome by curiosity.

     “For the most part, yes. I am attracted to women, but some men do have their allure.” Margot replies. “Haven’t you’ve ever been attracted to someone’s mind?”

     Thoughts of Hannibal’s maroon eyes, coy smile and dark wit fill Will’s mind instantly causing his cock to strain against his pants. “Are you saying you are only attracted to my mind?” Will asks feigning offense.

     “Hhhhmmm, hardly.” Margot replies with a smile, as she leans back into Will and kisses him again.

     Will almost pushes away from her embrace, thoughts of his and Hannibal’s conversation from earlier running through his mind. Hannibal had broken things off with Alana to start a physical relationship with him. Shouldn’t Will repay the courtesy?

     But thoughts of Hannibal and Alana together are actually what stop him. They had not agreed to be mutually exclusive with each other, most likely because of Hannibal own narcissism. A world where anyone was interested in cold, distant Will was probably infeasible in Hannibal’s mind. The thought makes Will’s chest tighten with anger. _Hannibal doesn’t own my dick and fuck him if he thinks he’s all I have._

     With new resolve, Will truly starts to kiss Margot back, his own tongue chasing after her own in a fevered dance. The action causes Margot to moan and fully straddle Will’s lap, tie forgotten as she rakes her fingers through his hair.

     Will returns the gesture, lacing his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. He bites and kisses her lips as she slowly grinds herself into his lap causing Will to groan. Suddenly she pushes him back on the bed and starts to undo his shirt, pupils blown wide in lust. Will does the same, unbuttoning Margot’s green blouse to find a white lace bra underneath.

     Will sits back up to pull the shirt down her arms only to see a long puckered scar atop her shoulder, the only thing marring her bronze skin. He kisses it just as she strokes his shoulder, fingers circling his own scar. The scar where Jack had shot him months ago, a time that seemed like another life completely.

     “Who did this to you?” Will asks looking up at her. Pain flickers in Margot’s eyes before she schools her features.

     “My brother.” She replies in a hallow voice, and Will immediately finds himself looking at her anew. “You?”

     “A friend.” Will confesses, understanding laced in those two words. Their kissing becomes even more fervent then, both fileted open and bare by their past wounds; their lust a way to fill them back up.

     Will pulls her shirt off completely and strokes her back, finding even more scars on it. Margot kisses him back forcefully, her mouth biting and stroking Will’s lips to distract him from them. Will feels anger and empathy course through his body at that, as if her scars made her any less beautiful or brilliant.

     Margot pulls off his shirt and tie in one swift motion bringing Will back to himself as she runs her hands up his body and strokes his chest. Will follows suit, unhooking her bra and tossing it on the floor. He cups her breast and grazes his thumb across her nipple eliciting a slight gasp from her parted lips. Margot returns the favor by pinching his nipple making Will’s breath hitch in surprise as he feels his cock harden.

     Margot smiles and grinds her hips into him, the fabric of his dress pants causing delicious friction. Will flashes her a smile of his own before flipping her onto the bed. He makes quick work of her jeans and underwear before pinning her with his body. His lips return to hers, kissing and biting her lips while teasing her nipples into stiff peaks with his fingers.

     They are both gasping when Will pulls away and starts to kiss down her body. He captures a nipple in his mouth and swirls the tip of his tongue around the rosy bud.

     “Ah! Will…” Margot moans making him smile. Will proceeds to do the same to the other nipple when he feels Margot’s hands at his crotch. She quickly undoes his belt and pants before freeing his cock, the caress of a hand over his rigid length making him moan against her breast. She continues to stroke him which shatters the steady rhythm he had started on her nipples causing him to pull away.

     “You’re beautiful Margot.” Will says as he travels lower, kissing his way down to her cleft. Something flickers across her face at his words but is gone before Will can see it. Pushing it from his mind, Will settles himself between her legs, licking and biting her thighs while laying light, teasing kisses over her sex.

     “Please…. Please, Will.” Margot gasps as her hands grip his sheets. Taking mercy on her, Will dives into her wetness and strokes his tongue over the length of her opening, savoring the musky flavor. Margot’s breaths become labored as Will opens the lips of her pussy and traces his tongue around her clit.

     Will spreads her legs wider as he begins to lavish her. Hands that were once twisted in his sheets glide through his hair in silent encouragement, and Will has no intention of stopping. Margot’s breath becomes rapid as she gets closer to the edge causing her hands to grip his hair tightly. But in an instant they are gone.

     “Will please, I want you inside of me.” Margot gasps as she looks down at him, face and chest flushed with lust. Will looks up, feeling her arousal on his face cooling in the air as he pulls away.

     “I don’t have any condoms.” Will admits in a gruff tone, feeling embarrassed. As if it wasn’t already obvious he didn’t get any action. The last box of condoms he bought had expired years ago.

     “I have an IUD.” Margot gasps out between breathes. Will’s brows furrow at that, as if pregnancy was the only issue with unprotected sex. Margot seems to notice the skepticism on Will’s face and continues. “I also got tested last month after the last person I slept with. You?”

     Will looks away awkwardly. “Was more than a month ago but yeah, same.”

     Margot smiles and pulls him down for a kiss, Will’s body enveloping hers. She hooks her legs around his body making his cock grinds into her pubic hair causing Will to groan. He begins to toy with a nipple as he loosens her legs a little to grab his length. Will positions himself against her slick opening before slowly pushing in.

     Margot gasps into his kiss as his hard cock pierces her and grabs his shoulders, her nails scoring his skin. The slight sting makes Will groan as he fully sheaths himself into her. Margot begins to kiss back, legs wrapping around his hips as she grinds herself into him. With a growl Will starts to move, fucking himself into Margot, her tight pussy clenching around his cock as she moans below him. They break away as the motions become faster and Will finds his mind going on autopilot.

     Looking at Margot’s writhing form beneath him, Will finds his empathy slipping into hers. The feeling of a large cock grinding into Will seizes his thoughts, tingles of pleasure going from his filled ass to his cock. His climax comes faster at the image, and when thoughts of Hannibal with disheveled hair and eyes glazed with lust joins that image Will groans, feeling overwhelmed by pent-up desire.

     The fantasy takes hold of Will as he loses himself in the idea; Hannibal’s dominating presence enveloping Will as he has him in a way no one has before. The vulnerability and pleasure at the idea completely captures him as he fucks into Margot harder, taking her over the edge with him. Will comes with a cry, images of Hannibal’s darks eyes locked in his mind as he finishes causing aftershocks of pleasure to course through him as he releases into Margot.

     And as Will comes down from his orgasm he realizes Hannibal does own him there too…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Getting myself pumped for writing Hannibal and Will scenes later on! ;)
> 
> For the folks that have Margo/Will as a nOTP, sorry! no more from here out, scouts honor. It will be strictly Will/Hannibal. I will say i do like Margo and Will together as comrades. Their personalities together and past betrays by people close to them something they connect over with out needing to say much. 
> 
> also, really hope this turns out well cuz its 4 am here and i am about to pass out. Night!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to apologize right off the bat for how long its taken me to get chapter 8 out. It basically stemmed from three different things. First, the holiday. Second, my papaw being in the hospital. And three, that my chapters just keep getting longer! The main reason being the last one.  
> Now that I've gotten most of the plot and setting BS out of the way the chapters are just sssooooo much longer. This makes it harder on me to write two chapters a week and for my betas, my sister and husband, to edit. This accumulates to me now only posting one chapter a week. However, they are each going to be around 5k words which is double what the first couple chapters were. Posting will stay on Sunday evenings. 
> 
> Whelp, enough with the updates, please enjoy chapter 8! sexy scenes await. ;)  
> *******

     Will’s phone chimes just before he gets out of the car. To delay the inevitable interview even longer, he finds himself checking to see who the text is from. He almost hopes its Jack saying there’s a case he’s needed on, though Will doubts his pride would let him ask for help so soon. Will hardly wants to talk to him anyways, having already cancelled their meet up tonight after his therapy session. He told Jack if there was anything he would let him know and, surprisingly, Jack had agreed.

     Grabbing his phone, Will checks and sees the text is not from Jack but Hannibal. An eyebrow raised, Will opens the message.

**HL: Meet me at my house tonight, normal time of course.**

     Will quirks an eyebrow as he types out a response.

**WG: Having my therapy session at your house? Seems a little personal Doctor…**

**HL: I was actually suggesting we have dinner.**

**WG: So you are cancelling my therapy session on me? What if it’s much needed? I am about to get interviewed by Freddie Lounds after all.**

**HL: Might be needed indeed… Which makes even more sense that you join me for dinner. You might need a drink as well.**

     Will finds himself smiling at his phone as he types back, stomach clenching in nervous tension.

**WG: Is this a date, Dr. Lector?**

**HL: Only if having dinner with someone you hope to become sexually involved with denotes a date.**

     Will huffs out a laugh at that.

**WG: Then I’ll be at your house at seven thirty for our date.**

     Will stashes his phone in his car before getting out and heading for the door, his previous smile diminishing with each step. He raps briskly on it twice before pushing his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Evidently just being near Freddie was giving him a headache.

     The clip-clip of heels echoes behind the closed door with a brief pause before a bright red mound of curls pops into view. Freddie holds the door wide for him to enter, interviewer smile in place. “Will, what a pleasure.”

     Freddie’s welcome is so thick with false enthusiasm Will has to force himself not to roll his eyes. She greets him more like a best friend who just dropped by to gossip over drinks and less like the planned interview it is with a disgruntled FBI profile she had to bribe to get there. Will ignores her and walks past, letting the sickly sweet charm roll off him.

     “As sociable as ever, I see.” Freddie says closing the door behind him.

     “It’s funny that you think I would want to be sociable with you at all Freddie.” Will says flipping through a notebook on her desk. “This is purely reciprocal.”

     “Fine by me.” Freddie responds glaring at Will as he ruffles through her things, something Will finds smug satisfaction in. She gestures towards the armchair across from her, presenting it like a prize he’s won. It looks more like hell. Letting out a heavy breath, Will sits in it as she pulls out a tape recorder.

     Freddie interviews Will in a tame manner, asking easy questions and is accepting of his vague answers. Will is hardly surprised by it, her act just a warm up to make his personal forts crumble; as if casual conversation with her would ever put him at ease. So it’s not surprising when she brings up the Chesapeake Ripper and it’s less than subtle.

     “So Fredrick Chilton is the Chesapeake Ripper… Who knew?”

     “Who indeed.” Will replies, pretending to be surprised by the turn of conversation, would hate to hurt Freddie’s pride.

     “Clearly not you and the FBI, Chilton consulted on a couple of cases even.” Freddie retorts, her dig meant to inflict ire and irrational words.

     “We knew the profile, but didn’t have any evidence until we found some that pointed to Chilton. We only knew the Chesapeake Ripper was an intelligent psychopath with a medical background.” Will explains smoothly. It was all things Freddie already knew of course, she clearly trying to get at something.

     “Intelligent with a medical background sounds a lot like Doctor Lector too.” Freddie comments making Will laugh. Freddie was brilliant at what she did, that’s for sure. Will just wondered how long it would take before it burned her.

     “So first you report Gideon as the Ripper, then me and now Hannibal but not Fredrick, even when four dead bodies were found at his house along with a mound of evidence.” Will shakes his head and gives Freddie a cool smile. “I mean, you are hardly burdened by facts in your writing but this is just getting pathetic.”

     “You say that yet you were the first one to accuse Hannibal of being the Chesapeake Ripper.” Freddie replies, shrugging off the insult.

     “I don’t know if you remember but I had encephalitis at the time.” Will replies in a clipped tone.

     “You also tried to have him killed after you were cured of it.” Freddie presses.

     Will checks his watch dismissively. “You forgot to say allegedly.”

     “No I didn’t.” Freddie replies with a scoff. “Am I inconveniencing you, Will?”

     “In general, yes you usually do.” Will replies standing. “But in this case, I do have somewhere I need to be and would rather leave before you annoy me anymore than you already have.”

     Freddie ignores Will’s haste to leave and follows him to the door. “You know you should just admit it, Jack has already told me about his and yours little ruse.”

     The comment makes Will’s hand freeze on the door knob, escape momentarily forgotten.

     “Jack’s using you as an informant?” Will asks, voice taut with rage, Freddie’s ploy becoming more and more obvious.

     “Yes. You know, I’m surprised Jack didn’t tell you considering he’s your friend.” Freddie replies, and Will doesn’t even need to turn to know the smug smile she has on her face. “I, of course, also get full rights to the Ripper story after Hannibal’s caught.”

     “But you are still being kept at arms distance Freddie. Jack hardly trusts you enough to give more than bare bones information, which is why you tried to get information from me.” Will replies, words thick with malice.

     “Interesting you mention trust. Hannibal and Jack are your only friends, yet one is a killer you are deceiving in order to catch and the other doesn’t trust you enough to tell you he hired me.” Freddie says. Falling for the bait Will turns to her, quiet rage rolling off his body.

     “If you have a point Freddie…” Will says, taking a threatening step towards her. “Make. It.”

     “My point is, as much as you call them your friends, you trust each other about as much as you trust me.” Freddie says with a smile. “I guess that make us friends too…”

      Will does roll his eyes at that. “Goodbye Freddie.”

      When he reaches his car Will finds his hand guided by rage to his phone. He’s about to call Jack but stops himself. Ultimately Jack made his decision, a decision made against Will’s advice and wishes. Freddie’s comment on lack of trust rings in Will’s head and with Jack’s choice made, Will makes his own.

*********

      Will arrives at Hannibal’s a little after seven thirty feeling rushed and with butterflies swarming in his stomach, something he wishes he could just will away. He barely had time to go home and change after the interview, but he’s glad he did. His suit acting as his armor for battle, a battle he felt wholly unqualified for: a date.

      Will tugs at a cuff as he knocks on Hannibal’s door, mentally berating himself for feeling anxious. It wasn’t as if he’d never had dinner with Hannibal before and it was doubtful he would just jump Will in the middle of dinner regardless of their agreement. Besides, sexual advances from Hannibal were welcomed with nervous anticipation. Yet Will found himself tense despite this, geared up for a different attack.

     He didn’t doubt Hannibal would be a perfect gentlemen, he always was. This is why he felt nervous, because Will was more nervous about what Hannibal planned for “dates”. Images of champagne, rose petals, and candles are all Will can think of and are the real cause for his anxiety. Will doesn’t _do_ romance and the thought of a Hallmark date waiting for him behind closed doors is makes him want to run home to his dogs.

     Before Will’s imagination can run too wild though Hannibal opens the door, a genuine smile greeting him. “Perfect timing, Will. I just finished setting everything up. Please, come in…”

     Hannibal holds the door open for Will with just enough room for him to walk past and the heat of his presence makes Will’s skin buzz. Hannibal goes to reach for Will’s jacket to help him take it off but Will side steps him, ignoring the chivalrous act and hangs it up on the coat rack himself. Hannibal notices the hurried movements and stifles a smile while Will stays facing the coat rack to hide the red in his face.

     “You seems a tad tense Will.” Hannibal teases, taking a step closer to him. Refusing to look more flustered than he already has, Will doesn’t step away as he feels Hannibal just inches from his back. “Is it because of our date?”

     “You could say that… You are intimidating.” Will admits knowing it will stroke the other man’s ego.

     “And you are worried about what I have in store for you this evening.” Hannibal says, finishing the thought.

     Will almost jumps out of his skin when Hannibal takes his hand, the small amount of contact making him shiver as Hannibal guides him away from the front door. Will expects to be lead to the dining room, but is surprised when they head in the opposite direction. Any anxiety Will has doubles as Hannibal leads him up-stairs, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. Clearly his thoughts of overly romantic wooing being a big ‘swing n’ a miss’.

     Hannibal glances back at him then, a devious look painting his face that makes Will’s knees weak. He recalls Hannibal’s words when he first walked in and wonders what sexual activities require ‘setting up’. Now Will’s mind goes into overdrive with images of roleplaying and bondage coming to the forefront.

     Upstairs Will sees doors leading in all different directions but Hannibal leads him down the hall toward double doors. Will automatically knows that it’s Hannibal’s room and panic rises in his throat as they head towards it. Will is about to stop Hannibal and tell him he’s not sure he can do this, at least not before he has a drink to calm his nerves, when they turn and Hannibal leads them through a different door.

     Upon the door opening Will is greeted by the soft melody of music and the streets of Baltimore, the crisp air of the night calming his fevered thoughts. He realizes they are on a balcony overlooking the skyline of the city with woods surrounding them for privacy. In the center of the balcony is a table set for dinner with two domes covering the food, an electric heater is not far away to keep the chill of the night away.

     “I figured you would like a change of scenery.” Hannibal replies barely suppressing a laugh at Will’s bewilderment. _That fucking bastard knew what he was doing…_ Will thinks, glaring at him.

     “You know you’re making it really hard not to ruin this date.” Will growls out once he has regained his composure. “I’m very tempted to smack that smug smile off your face.”

     “That would hardly ruin the date for me Will. I would just advise you to refrain till after dinner, so we don’t forgo it all together.” Hannibal replies with a wink before heading towards the table. Will’s stomach does a flip as he follows behind Hannibal and takes a seat.

     “I’ve prepared Lobster Étouffée.” Hannibal says removing the dome from the food in front of him. Will is immediately enveloped in the smell of home, creole spices and the salty aroma of seafood making his chest ache and stomach rumble. The dish in front of him is artfully decorated with a thick sauce, chunks of lobster and a perfectly round scoop of rice topped with a crawfish claw and sprig of parsley. It is just as beautiful as all the other dishes Hannibal has prepared for him, but the sentiment behind it makes it even more so causing Will’s eyes to sting.

      It was a small gesture, hardly anything like the grandiose ones Will expected, but a quiet evening enjoying southern comfort food was a perfect evening to him. Blinking, he clears his throat before looking up at Hannibal. Will lets his gaze soften with appreciation for the plate of home Hannibal has created for him and it colors his words. “Thank you Hannibal.”

      Hannibal just gives a small nod before uncovering his own food and taking a seat, allowing Will the moment. Once seated, Hannibal looks at him expectantly and Will immediately obliges by picking up his spoon. He gets a bite filled with the thick creole sauce, lobster and rice before bringing it to his mouth.

      The flavors that erupt on his tongue make Will close his eyes and let a throaty moan escape his lips; the spicy roux of the sauce and buttery, salty taste of the lobster dance on his tongue with the starch of the white rice balancing out the stronger flavors. Will finds himself savoring the taste in his mouth probably longer than necessary before swallowing and opening his eyes. His gaze locks with Hannibal’s who is watching him intently, pupils almost taking over his maroon irises completely.

      “This is amazing Hannibal” Will says once he can speak, the pleasure of the praise is immediate on Hannibal’s face.

     “I’m glad you like it. I do not have much practice in Creole cuisine so I had to rely on my roots in the French culinary arts.” Hannibal replies, picking up his own silverware.

      “Well it’s perfect, thank you. I’m not much of a cook and can’t remember the last time I had food that reminds me of home.” Will says as he starts to dig in.

      “It’s completely my pleasure. I hope it makes up for the stress of being interviewed by Freddie Lounds.” Hannibal says, making Will laugh.

     “It does and then some.” Will says between bites, but the bliss of good food doesn’t cut through his thoughts and his brows pull together as he remembers his conversation with Freddie.

     “You seem distressed by something. I take it the interview with Freddie didn’t go well?”

     Will takes a long drink from his wine glass before answering and replies with a purposefully vague answer. “That’s an understatement, though I can’t imagine an interaction with her going well.”

     “It sounds like you expected it. What made it different?”

      Will remembers Freddie’s smug smile and knowing words as well as her new position in aiding in catching Hannibal. But most of all that damn comment about trust whirls in his head. Will fingers the stem of his wine glass as he responds, looking at the bright, peach-colored liquid. “I’m not sure… Her intrusive questions I can generally handle.”

     “Then it was the topic she was being intrusive on that was unexpected.” Hannibal says, easily cutting to the root of the distress. He only hesitates for a second before continuing. “I am guessing I was the topic of conversation.”

      Will looks up from his meal, surprise flashing on his face before he composes himself. “Freddie _was_ more than a little skeptical about Fredrick Chilton being the Chesapeake Ripper…”

     “Freddie has always been a very intuitive reporter.” Hannibal replies, unfazed.

     “And intrusive.” Will adds, brows pulled together. “You don’t seem surprised.”

     Hannibal pours him and Will more wine as he answers. “I hardly ever am. When you live life like I do you begin to expect anything. And with that you begin to see suspicion and the possibility of betrayal in everyone you meet and every relationship you form.”

     Hannibal’s words are hollow with sadness making Will’s chest clench. “Why do you trust me then?”

     “Understanding and trust are closely linked. When we understand someone they become transparent in many ways allowing us to open up. Seeing our reflections in the eyes and minds of others creates an irrevocable bond, one that is impossible to break.”

     Will thinks about Jack and how he didn’t believe Will when he first said Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper. Not so different from now where he doesn’t even trust him enough to catch Hannibal. The reality of Jack’s betrayal is an abrasion on their already worn friendship. It makes Will wonder if there is a world in which Jack would ever trust him.

     “Even when one is betrayed by the other?” Will asks, his plate forgot as he stares into Hannibal’s eyes, guilt heavy in his stomach. _How is Jack’s betrayal any worse than my own?_ Will thinks as they both gaze at each other, searching for answers in the others depths.

     “Especially then. Forgiveness can be an inevitable thing, akin to falling in love. We do not have control in respects to who we forgive or fall in love with.” Hannibal replies softly.

     “I somehow have forgiven you for what you did to me…” Will confesses, scrubbing his hand over his face. “God knows I don’t know how.”

      The memories were still there of what Hannibal had done to him, still as crisp as if they had happened yesterday and not months ago. Understanding had eventually overcome betrayal though, leaving Will’s anger feeling hollow. He couldn’t forget what Hannibal had done to him but understanding and time had let him forgive him, something he equally hated and was grateful for. Grateful because anger would only cloud his judgement while leaving it impossible to think past it and therefore making it almost impossible to catch Hannibal. Yet Will hated it because if he was so easily able to forgive a killer like Hannibal, what did that say about him?

      Hannibal touches Will’s hand from across the table bringing him out of his thoughts. Clasping it, he raises Will’s hand to his mouth and brushes a light kiss to the knuckles. The simple gestures lighting a fire in Will’s abdomen that makes his gaze darken with lust and stomach clench.

     “Are you done with your dinner?” Hannibal asks, still staring deeply into Will’s heated gaze. Instantly Will nods making Hannibal smile before he stands and grabs their plates. “Then I will go get dessert.”

      A groan is poised on Will’s lips that he holds back; he’s quickly realizing that Hannibal is an insatiable tease.  As Hannibal heads back into the house, Will askes where the bathroom is, knowing cold water will do him some good…

     “You are more than welcome to use the master bathroom in my bedroom. It’s right through the door there.” Hannibal says, inclining his head towards the other door that connects to the balcony.

     Will heads through the glass door into Hannibal’s room and easily finds the bathroom, though it’s more like a small bath house than a room meant for a single man, the room almost the size of Will’s living room. Only when he is leaving the bathroom does Will look at the large king size bed in the middle of the far wall… and the bedside table that has it’s drawer cracked opened.

     Convincing himself he is just going to close the draw, Will creeps farther into the room. That small voice also convincing him that he’s not going to look…. Or you know, only take a quick one. But that quick look soon becomes a gawk at what he finds.

     Nestled in the bedside drawer are a variety of debaucherous items; ranging in level from tame things like condoms and lube all the way to anal plugs and dildos. Will’s breath catches as he looks over the items, the urge to look at each item in aroused curiosity warring with the urge to shut the drawer and scurry away. The decision is made for him when he hears a throat clear behind him.

     “You know it’s very rude to snoop, Will.”

     “I…. it… it was open.” Will stutters looking between Hannibal and the draw, both seeming as if they are staring holes into him. He tries to calm his pulse, telling himself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Apprehension is soon overcome by the confident stride of Hannibal as he approaches Will.

     Hannibal’s lips crush Will in a passionate embrace that is abrasive while not enough and the hunger Will has for him becomes overwhelming at the first taste of his lips. His hands automatically rake through the silky stands of Hannibal’s hair deepening the kiss. Their bodies press together and Will groans at the contact, all embarrassment at being caught looking snooping through Hannibal’s sex drawer consumed by desire.

     Will feels hands brushing his suit jacket from his shoulder until it lays shucked to the floor. Hannibal’s suit immediately has too many layers and Will starts to do the same, the jacket and vest falling on the floor next to his. His hands travel Hannibal’s body in the process, finally enjoying the feel of the strong body that only his eyes previously had the pleasure to explore. The hard lines of Hannibal’s chest and shoulders make Will groan, his tongue stroking over the entrance of Hannibal’s lips in a desperate attempt for more.

     A warm tongue soon touches his allowing entrance and the taste of Hannibal makes Will’s head dizzy with arousal, his taste heady with wine. A gentle bite to Hannibal’s bottom lip soon has Will pushed back on the bed, breathe heaving in short gasps. Hannibal looks down at him; irises blown wide with lust making his eyes look black. Other than the sinful gaze and messed up hair from Will’s hands, Hannibal looks completely composed, the complete opposite of Will’s disarrayed appearance.

     “Did you like what you found?” Hannibal asks with a low but even voice. His eyes amused as he lowers himself, arms supporting him over Will’s body.

     The playful turn of Hannibal’s lips makes realization click into place and Will huffs out an incredulous laugh. “You wanted me to find it…”

     “Mmmmm… I had hoped.” Hannibal says as he kisses his way down Will’s neck. “The mind _is_ the best tool for foreplay; it creates the most arousing thoughts with simple suggestions. With your imagination, I am curious what erotic scenes play out in that vast mind of yours.”

      “How about we play Pictionary sometime and I’ll show you…” Will retorts, his voice hitching as Hannibal bites the sensitive skin between his neck and shoulder.

     “That would be interesting…” Hannibal replies with a chuckle, his hot breathe on Will’s neck causing him shiver and his half hard cock to lengthen at the sensation. “I’m curious, Will. Do you count me fucking you with toys as penetration?”

     Will’s breath become ragged at Hannibal’s words and makes his abdomen clench. His dick nudges against Hannibal’s kneeled leg between his thighs and is barely able to resist the urge to grind into it, delirious with lust. “I do. Regardless, I would rather it be you than a toy for my first time…”

     The honestly of Will’s statement seems to break something in Hannibal and with a low growl he captures Will’s lips in a bruising kiss of teeth and tongue. By the time they pull away they are both panting, Hannibal’s gaze searching again. “You hardly need to justify your reasoning to me but may I ask why the sexual barriers then? Feel free to say no, I would hate to make you feel psychoanalyzed.”

     “You already psychoanalyze me, Hannibal.” Will replies giving him a small wistful smile before the smile slowly fades. Will hardly wants to have this conversation with Hannibal, let alone when they are half naked, but knows its a fair question. “It’s because the line between you and I is blurred, Hannibal. If I were to completely give myself to you like that…”

     Will trails off, but Hannibal nods in understanding. “It would be the complete surrendering of yourself to me and the acceptance of all that I am.”

     “Physical boundaries may be the only part of me that isn’t yours at this point.” Will says, truth ringing in his words. Sexual boundaries were the only way he could keep the line between him and Hannibal existing, no matter how thin it was. Will doesn’t mention the fear behind that, the fear of being consumed by Hannibal completely and the possibility of losing him. Jack didn’t need to tell Will he was charmed by Hannibal and in way over his head. He felt the truth of that statement every day and the fear that came with it.

     That same fear grips Will and causes him to pull Hannibal to him. Desperation makes his kisses frantic and deep, as if his mouth and tongue are trying to memorize the feel of Hannibal’s. His hands search Hannibal’s chest till he finds the hard buttons and begins to undo them, his fervent actions making him clumsy. Hannibal’s actions are much more fluid, easily unbuttoning Will’s shirt with one hand while combing his fingers through his curls.

     Hannibal’s hands roam Will’s chest, caressing his pectorals before pinching both nipples making Will gasp into Hannibal’s kiss. The sounds are hungrily swallowed by Hannibal’s tongue as he continues the tease until Will is whimpering beneath him. Traveling lower, Hannibal undoes Will’s belt with a snap and flick causing tension to settle in Will’s abdomen and make his cock strain further against the fabric of his pants. Will’s hands finally finish unbuttoning Hannibal’s shirt and trails to his waist to mirror Hannibal’s actions when hands stop him.

     “Did I say you could undress me?” Hannibal asks in a husky voice, his gaze stern and accent thick. His dark eyes make Will freeze under their intensity and immediately he finds himself obeying, hands traveling back up to Hannibal’s ash blond hair. “Better.”

     With hooded eyes, Will watches Hannibal slide his pants off while leaving his boxer briefs and grab something from the still open drawer next to the bed. Will's pulse spikes with anxiety at what Hannibal may be grabbing but settles when he only comes away with a bottle of lube. Undoing his own pants, Hannibal pulls them and his underwear down so he is naked with his uncut cock out, distended and hard.

     Kneeling next to Will, Hannibal leisurely lubricates his cock and runs his hands over the length. Will’s eyes glaze over as he watches the slow rut of Hannibal’s cock in his hands and reaches for it suddenly very desperate to touch. At the motion Hannibal immediately stops and pulls away, hooded gaze replaced again with a dark stern one.

     “I did not say you could touch either. Hands above your head, Mr. Graham.” Hannibal commands.

     “Are you serious?” Will growls in disbelief.

     “If you would like we can stop all together and go back out on patio for dessert.” Hannibal replies. Will almost does rise from the bed just for the pure satisfaction of rebelling. The only thing that stops him is the heavy ache of his cock straining against his boxers and the glint in Hannibal’s eyes that shows he’s _not_ bluffing.

     Slowly Will raises his hands above his head and clasps them there. Only when they are in place does Hannibal continue the slow stroking of his own cock. The sight itself is enough to make Will start to pant, his eyes flickering from Hannibal’s lust blown eyes down to his rigid cock. Will groans and clenches his hands in a fist above his head, straining against the urge to touch; Hannibal, himself… fuck to just do something…

     “Do you want something Will?” Hannibal asks, his accent so thick he words almost sound slurred.

     Will’s eyes flash as he glares up at Hannibal and clenches his jaw. “No.”

     “Pity, for all you have to do is ask if you do.” Hannibal says with a small smile turning up the corner of his mouth. At those words Hannibal begins to stroke himself in earnest, his mouth parting as a soft groan escapes. Will’s hands grip his own hair at the sound and tugs at the roots, but instead of distracting him, the pain only intensifies the pulsing hardness of his cock.

     “Fuck… Hannibal, touch me already, or let me touch you. I can’t anymore… Fuck…” Will’s words fall out in a groan.

     “Perhaps we will work on manners later.” Hannibal murmurs as he stops his stroking. “Hands stay where they are Mr. Graham.”

     Hannibal finally removes Will’s boxers and, as soon as the air touches his swollen cock, it twitches making Will raise his hips in anticipation. Settling over his thighs, Hannibal applies lube to Will’s cock and pure abandonment has him thrusting into it. Tsking, Hannibal uses his other hand to hold Will’s hip fast to the bed and begins to stroke him in a steady, slow rhythm. Eyes closed, Will growls at the pace; it makes his pulse thrum in his cock without being enough to make him come.

     Almost as soon as it started, Hannibal’s hand is gone and Will feels his body start to shake, words of protest rising when something both hard and velvety touches his cock. Eyes snapping open, Will looks down to see Hannibal rubbing the head of his cock over Will’s own length, the precum from Hannibal's cock smearing in with the lube. Will gasps at the view of his cock touching Hannibal’s, noticing the slight difference; Hannibal’s uncut cock thicker and slightly longer next to his circumcised one.

     Hannibal’s controlled features start to crumble at the view as well, his controlled expression becoming taken over by one of pure hunger. His restraint crumbling, Hannibal brings his cock flushed against Will’s and begins to stroke their conjoined lengths. Simultaneously, they both moan at the sensation and begin to thrust into each downward movement of Hannibal’s hand. The view of Hannibal moaning and thrusting above him has Will gripping his hair and digging his nails into his scalp, fighting the urge to run his hands over Hannibal’s body or pull him down for a kiss.

     Will’s own breathing and thrusts become erratic as he climbs closer to release. As if sensing it, Hannibal increases the pressure and pace while bringing his empty hand up to Will’s nipples, the rough pinching of them making him cry out. The flash of pain and pleasure has Will careening over the edge, head thrown back as white stripes cover Hannibal’s hand, lubricating his cock more as his own release finds him with a groan. Will watches Hannibal come undone through hooded eyes, the sight making lingering pleasure pulse through him.

     Remembering his hands clasped above his head, Will removes the tangled digits from his hair with a wince. As they catch their breath, Hannibal smirks down at him and Will’s own afterglow has his own lips pulling into a smirk in return.

     “So what’s for dessert?”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the song Coming Down by Halsey makes me think of Will and Hannibal sssssoooooo much. I recommend giving it a listen before or after this chapter. Also, if anyone can find me a fan-made Hannigram video using that song I would be to the moon with excitement! I have only found the song Gasoline, Control and Hold Me Down by Halsey used for fan videos. 
> 
> also, just as a shout out, i also recommend watching the video on youtube by Hannibal Lector called Hannigram (Hannibal + Will Graham)/ I found. Probably one of the best Hannigram video's I've seen. The song choice is brilliant and the clips paired with the lyrics is perfect.

     Will finds himself waking in a fog; mind heavy and confused at where he is. Blinking through crusty, sleep filled eyes Will is slow to realize where he is and what woke him. The biggest giveaway to where being the large, canopied king size bed he is laying on with silk sheets, a sharp contrast to his cheap cotton ones. Will doesn’t remember how he got there, only vaguely recalling having drinks with Hannibal after their bedroom activities and dessert. But, if his head is any indicator to the quantity of drinks, he most likely had one too many. _God, only knows what I did or said…_

      With a groan, Will rolls on his side just as the ‘what’ that woke him chimes again, the pleasant melody of a doorbell echoing in the house. Flinging the covers back, Will figures that’s his que to get up and face Hannibal. Standing, Will is glad to find that he is clothed, wearing a t-shirt and plaid pajama pants; definitely dressed in more than what he wears to bed at home.

     Peeking out the double doors, Will finds the hallway empty except for the smell of bacon, the aroma making his stomach growl. Following his nose, Will heads to the kitchen, momentarily forgetting what woke him till he’s walking through the dining room to the kitchen and hears voices.

     “It’s early, would you like some coffee?” Hannibal asks just in time for Will to pause outside the closed kitchen door. He looks down at his crumpled pajamas and immediately knows that whoever is behind the door will jump to an obvious, and somewhat accurate, conclusion if he were to walk in there now. Will is not ready to face the scrutiny of another person; hell, he can hardly face the scrutiny he gives himself when he looks in the mirror. With his decision made, Will is about to back away and head upstairs to wait until the guest has left, when they respond.

     “Thank you but I don’t plan on staying long.” Jack replies, short but courteous. “I am actually about to head to a crime scene. I was wondering if you might know where Will is, I tried calling him a couple of times with no response.”

      Will silently curses under his breathe. Of course he hadn’t planned on staying the night so he also hadn’t brought a charger and his phone was most likely dead. What confused Will though was the fact that Jack was looking for him at all. It’s not like they were exactly on speaking terms, on top of the fact he was just recently been removed from consulting on anything not Ripper related. Curiosity has Will leaning in closer to the door.

     “No worries Jack, Will is currently upstairs sleeping. He had a little too much to drink last night and stayed the night.” Hannibal replies.

“That’s convenient…” Jack says slowly. “The last two times there has been a suspected Ripper victim you have been entertaining a guest all night.”

     Will’s eyes widen at Jack’s thinly veiled accusation and wants to shake him. _So much for not letting Hannibal know you are suspicious of him, Jack._ Will thinks ruefully _. At least that explains why you're looking for me._ To Hannibal’s credit, he remains seemingly unperturbed and, from what Will can hear, keeps diligently making breakfast. “You act as though my guests don’t stay over willingly. You are more than welcome to go wake Will up yourself if you would like to check.”

     “I’m fine, thank you. I prefer not to see Will right after you two spent the night together.” Jack replies with barely controlled disdain lacing his words. The ire only seems to make Hannibal chuckle.

     “It’s interesting that you infer Will stayed over for reasons of the sexual nature.” Hannibal says and Will can practically hear Jack audibly open and close his mouth. “What I also find interesting is that you are looking for Will at all. From my understanding, you removed him from his last case saying he was incompetent.”

     “I’m not wrong…” Jack replies with a growl. “I find myself each day questioning his judge of character more and more. Makes it hard to trust his judgement in the field as well.”

     “Trust is something that has to be earned by both parties.” Hannibal replies coolly. “When we want to build trust we have to first lay the foundation for the trust to be earned. You never give Will the foundation Jack and he’s left trying to build on sand.”

     A flicker of warmth passes through Will’s body at Hannibal’s words, something he slowly realizes is appreciation. Not wanting to hear more, Will opens the door to the kitchen before either can get another word out. Jack jumps in surprise at disturbance with his mouth still open about to says something, while Hannibal on the other hand, keeps plating food with his natural air of aloofness.

     “Good morning, Will.” Hannibal says, not even looking up from his task at Will’s sudden appearance. The nonchalant demeanor making Will wonder if Hannibal knew he was listening outside the whole time. “Would you like some coffee?”

      Will looks between Hannibal and Jack. “Sure, though I think we will have to make breakfast brief. I imagine Jack is here for a case, not for mimosas and scones.” Will quips, the comment making Hannibal chuckle and Jack scowl. Jack’s previous comment makes Will’s words come out bitter and condescending as he continues. “That is, if you think I’m competent enough to be of use, Jack.”

     “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Jack replies with his eyes narrowed, clearly trying to decide if Will heard any of his and Hannibal’s conversation. “It’s a Ripper case and you are the profiler most familiar with him.”

     Will highly doubts it’s a Ripper murder and figures that Jack is just being stupid, that or he is trying to get back in Will’s good graces, however unlikely that was. Will merely grunts in affirmation at the words as he takes a drink from the coffee Hannibal hands him, not even acknowledging the off-handed, piss poor excuse for a complement as an acceptable apology. Hannibal, completely unfazed by the thick tension, cuts the silence between them and answers Jack for Will. “We will meet you at the crime scene Jack, just text me the address.”

     With a curt nod, Jack heads for the door and Hannibal, as his usual polite host self, follows him out. By the time Hannibal comes back Will has already started on one of the breakfast scrambles. He joins Will at the counter and starts to eat as well, both forgoing eating at a table for time and convenience sake.

     “How much did you hear?” Hannibal finally asks Will when he’s half way through the plate of food.

     “Enough to catch Jack’s homophobic tone and the comment about his lack of trust in me.” Will says grimly before giving Hannibal a small smile. “Though I guess he’s not completely wrong in his lack of trust.”

     Hannibal responds with a smile of his own as they continue to dig into their breakfast. Will finds himself not giving a shit about Jack doubting his trust and questioning his judgement. Let him. Since he found out that Jack had brought Freddie Lounds on as an informant, Will was officially done with his help in catching Hannibal. Will would get evidence on Hannibal without it and shove it in Jack’s smug face.

     “Thank you by the way… for what you said to Jack.” Will says in a low voice. “You didn’t have to defend me to him, I hardly care about his trust or friendship anymore, but thank you all the same.”

     “It was as much for your benefit as it was for Jack’s.” Hannibal simply replies.

     “What do you mean?” Will asks, setting his empty plate in the sink.

     Hannibal does the same with his plate and begins to wash the remaining dishes, his voice measured in his response. “Jack is a good leader but his lack of trust strangles the relationships he creates. Like an invasive plant, he drains life and energy from you in the form of demands while expecting blind faith without giving anything in return.”

     “Sound like you are trying to alienate me from Jack” Will says offhandedly.

     Hannibal pauses his scrubbing and looks directly as Will. “No. I believe he’s doing that himself.”

     Will gives him a wry smirk. “You’re not wrong.”

 ******

     When Hannibal had said the crime scene was at a church Will had expected polished floors, the smell of incense and maybe some people in clerical colors or habits getting questioned while organ music plays in the background. What they really find is stone rubble, dust and foliage completely overrunning the ruins of a collapsed Catholic church with broken stain glass windows littering the ground around it.

     Stepping out of Hannibal’s Bentley, Will draws attention from the surrounding FBI agents that are collecting evidence and taking pictures. Their gazes are heavy and attentive as Hannibal and he walk under the police tape, glancing between the two of them while mostly lingering on Will. He shoots Hannibal a glare and mentally curses, kicking himself for letting Hannibal dress him. Will isn’t wearing anything as elaborate as Hannibal’s three piece suit, but it is definitely more than his normal button up shirt and dress pants.

     Will wears, in addition to a white button up and dress pants, a red tie with a blue sweater on top. He had to fight Hannibal for a solid red tie over a blue and red paisley monstrosity, but now regrets not asking to forego the tie altogether. Will feels like a yuppie Harvard professor and, judging by his leisurely stares, Hannibal likes the new look. _Of course he does. I’m finally his personal Ken doll to dress and undress as he pleases,_ Will thinks coolly.

     “Is there something wrong, Will?” Hannibal asks with a small knowing smile.

     “Besides the blatant stares I’m getting from everyone?” Will asks with thick sarcasm. “I look ridiculous.”

     “You look dapper.” Hannibal corrects.

     Will barks a laugh at that. “Is that supposed to help?” Will asks rhetorically, shaking his head. “Just remember I’m choosing your outfit next time.”

     “Will we dress to match?” Hannibal quips back, making Will snicker.

     “Watch it or I’ll dress you in flannel.”

      Hannibal chuckles and flashes him a devious smile, one Will finds himself getting lost in and makes his stomach do a little flip. “Sounds terrifying.”

     Walking through a broken arch way, Will sees more destruction littering the main chapel making the interior a maze of broken roof, pews, and plants that had taken up habitat in the ruins. Winding their way through the wreckage, Hannibal and Will approach the stage of the chapel where the bodies are displayed. In the air above the raised platform is a man with his chest ripped open, held aloft with wings made of rainbow colored glass attached to him. The body and wings are supported by rope and steel cables that connect to structural beams of the remaining roof. The arms are lifted by fine string in the air to hold a trumpet to his lips and below him are two decaying bodies covered in dirt with the scene accentuated by the heart of the suspended man lying on an open bible on the center podium.

     Will doesn’t even need to close his eyes to know who the killer is. He doesn’t need to close his eyes, let the ambient noise sound, and pendulum sway to know who this man is. Maybe it’s the melding of their minds or the overtness of it, but Will knows the meaning behind the design as if it’s calling to his being. It might even be, it was after all made for him…

     Will’s breathe comes in short pants at the horrific beauty of the man-made angel and feels his vision dim. Panic claws its way up his throat like an animal trying to get out and it takes everything in him not to fall to his knees in front of the display like a worshiper kneeling to pray. The effort is not needed though because Will immediately feels strong hands supporting him. Hannibal’s face comes into view cutting off the display, his warm amber eyes search his and Will feels himself consumed in their depths.

     The artistry of the design Hannibal has created for Will takes his breathe away while terrifying him, the intensity behind the devotion in it shaking Will to his core. The design a symbol of Will’s own awakening and the promise of new beginnings. The wonder in it, however, is undercut by anger as Will slowly grasps the chain of events leading to its creation.

     “Will… Will…” Hannibal says and his words slowly break through like waves on a shore bringing him back to shore. Will realizes he’s leaning in close to Hannibal with his hands on both of his shoulders in a tight grip. Taking a deep breath in and out, Will loosens his hands, feeling his joints and muscles sigh with relief at the release in tension.

     Will keeps the steadying breathing in and out as he tries to control his anger and confusion. He feels like an idiot for thinking Hannibal wouldn’t use him as an alibi and on some level Will doesn’t blame him. It was a logical decision, but that alone doesn’t pacify the hurt that clenches in his chest. So Will feels no remorse as he glances around the chapel to make sure they are alone before pulling back his fist to punch Hannibal in the jaw.

     They break apart with a crack and Will barely keeps himself from falling over at the loss of Hannibal’s support. With impossible ease Hannibal takes the punch gracefully, his face only turning slightly to the side while his features remain schooled into perfect indifference. Only when Hannibal straightens and looks at him does Will see the silent storm brewing under the controlled mask.

     Anger ripples off of him as well so Will holds the gaze, too pissed to be afraid at the fact he’s having a staring contest with a serial killer he just punched in the face. Hannibal is the first to speak, his voice low with controlled rage and with something else that Will slowly recognizes as uncertainty.  “I believe it would be best if we speak in private.”

     Will’s gaze cuts from Hannibal back to the alter created for him… His alter. The sight makes his chest ache and he knows he would be content to stare at the scene designed for him forever, an alter meant to sing a hymn of reverence to him. Betrayal swirls through it though and keeps Will from revealing in its sight. Will is instead content to absorb the sight into his mind palace for him to visit later.

     “Let’s head back to your place.” Will finally says not meeting Hannibal’s gaze, wrapping his anger back inside himself. Only once they are in Hannibal’s Bentley again does Will break the silent tension.

     “Where was Jack?”

     Hannibal keeps his eyes on the road, his cool indifference back in place. “He texted me when we were on our way to the crime scene saying he wouldn’t be there. He was called away for an important meeting but says that he will be expecting an evaluation of the Chesapeake Ripper scene by Wednesday.”

     Will bristles at the expectation. Jack was about to be sorely disappointed because there was no way he was evaluating that crime scene, at least not truthfully. “I won’t be writing an evaluation on a Ripper murder. I will be writing a profile on a new killer with religious hysteria.”

     Will’s response surprises Hannibal causing him to glance from the road to look at him. “Jack already suspects it’s a Chesapeake Ripper killing.” Hannibal replies tentatively.

     “Jack also thought Abel Gideon’s killing of that nurse was you and your killing of Cassie Boyle was Garret Jacob Hobbs.” Will replies heatedly. “Jack trusts facts even if he doesn’t trust me, and I’m good enough at my job to make him believe that murder wasn’t the Chesapeake Ripper.” Will pauses in thought for a moment before continuing. “You didn’t take any surgical trophies, did you?”

     “No.” Hannibal replies, seeming unpleased by it. The fact that Hannibal didn’t take a surgical trophy should concern Will, its relevance meaning something if he were to look at it, but at the moment it’s only a blessing.

     “Good, that will make it easier at least.” Will replies, as Hannibal pulls the car into the garage.

     “May I ask why you intend to lie about the murder?” Hannibal asks turning towards Will in the passenger seat.

     Will could tell him the real reason, he could confess his need to keep something that means so much to him and something so personal away from the FBI who will dissect and pick it apart. Will doesn’t though, hardly able to admit what he felt looking at the crime scene to Hannibal when he is pissed at him. So Will sticks with the safer option. “Jack and the FBI think Fredrick Chilton is the Chesapeake Ripper, a man who is currently locked away in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. It would be in our best interest to keep it that way.” Will replies, avoiding Hannibal’s gaze as he gets out of the car.

     “Jack seemed far from convinced it was Chilton this morning in my kitchen.” Hannibal replies, following Will into the study.

     “Jack’s also only one man. It’s more of a problem if the FBI reopens the file on the Chesapeake Ripper than if a single person pursues it on their own volition.”

     “You suspect me as well though and, from what you told me yesterday, so does Freddie Lounds.” Hannibal replies smoothly. “The number seems to keep going up.”

     “Freddie is a trashy internet tabloid writer; hardly a threat.” Will replies, anger lacing his voice as he stalks toward Hannibal. “As for me, you can take comfort in knowing I would rather kill you than turn you in, something I’m struggling not to do at the moment.”

     Hannibal’s gaze darkens with lust at Will’s threat, eyes searching. “Did you not like the gift I created for you, Will?”

     “I don’t like that you drugged me to do it.” Will seethes, avoiding the question. “You’re still playing games Hannibal despite trying to woo me to your side. That’s where you fucked up.”

     Despite his rage Hannibal seems to visibly relax at Will’s words. It takes Will a second to realize Hannibal thought he was mad about the murder and mutilation done for him. Will probably should be, but it hardly mattered why Hannibal did it, he never had a reason before and would have probably still killed the person without one.

     It was the slowly building trust he had started to form in Hannibal that angered Will, mostly because it had started to form so naturally and Will had only noticed it when it was replaced with betrayal. “You talk about trust and forgiveness Hannibal but you continue to do the same damn things that destroyed our friendship the last time.”

     Hannibal seems to mull over Will’s words carefully before responding. “Would you have wanted to know? And if so, would you have helped or would you have felt obligated to try and stop me?” Hannibal asks, eyes sharp as he searches Will’s face for lies in his answer.

     Will clenches his jaw, tempted not to answer and leave it as another ‘lie of omission’, but anger edges his words out of mouth. “I would have wanted to know so I could have watched and then fucked you after.”

     Hannibal’s surprise at Will’s response makes the carefully controlled walls of his control crumble and push Will against his desk. Hands gripping head and hair, Hannibal gives Will’s scalp a light pull as he devours his mouth. Will gasps at the feeling of tongue and teeth bruising his lips in a fierce kiss that leave him dizzy when Hannibal pulls away. Will’s heart is beating fast as he looks up at Hannibal, who has now neatly schooled his features back into place.

     “Be careful with what you say Will.” Hannibal warns in a low voice next to Will’s ear. “Or I might disregard your only term entirely.” His hot breathe ghosts the words against the fragile shell of Will’s ear making him shiver. Hannibal notices it and gives Will a knowing smile.

     Hannibal’s conceited smirk on top of his constant reticence and controlling behavior mixes with his anger making Will snap. In an instant he grabs Hannibal in a hungry embrace. Will rakes his hands though Hannibal’s perfectly styled hair and pulls none too gently at the roots making Hannibal growl into the kiss. Will doesn’t recede though and instead pushes Hannibal further by deepening the kiss and scoring Hannibal’s lips with his teeth. Will’s tongue dips into Hannibal’s mouth to taste him and groans with the need to taste more.

     Bodies still connected, Will kisses down Hannibal’s neck all the while loosening his tie in the process. Will’s tongue flicks out and lightly licks Hannibal’s neck before his teeth graze the flesh there making Hannibal gasp. The sound is music to Will’s ears so he does it again, nipping at the exposed flesh while enjoying the small groans and gasps they elicit.

     Will removes Hannibal’s tie and suit jacket in fast secession before he feels hands still his movements. Will keeps his hands in place and glares up at Hannibal. “So help me Hannibal if you say ‘I didn’t give you permission to undress me’ I will head-butt you in the face so fast. Then, while you are clutching your broken nose and stunned, I’ll just proceed to undress you anyway.”

     Hannibal hesitates for a second, his eyes dilating at the threat. Will almost doesn’t think Hannibal will relinquish control but he soon removes his hands so Will can continue. Letting out a sigh that he didn’t know he was holding, Will starts to remove Hannibal’s vest next.

     Will didn’t realize till now how much he needed this, needed to let Hannibal give him control for once. In this moment, Hannibal’s perfect control was something Will wanted to make tangible and shatter in the palm of his hands. Hannibal had said trust worked both ways and Will had to agree. He trusted Hannibal only as much as he was given in return and it turned out they both sucked at it.

     Once the vest is on the floor among the other discarded clothes, Hannibal starts to remove Will’s tie and sweater as Will unbuttons Hannibal’s shirt. With each button he undoes, Will plants a kiss on Hannibal’s body, trailing down till he is kneeling on the ground. Will wasn’t sure when the endeavor to taste Hannibal completely lead him to this precipice but all of a sudden Will was there, completely consumed with the need. Stomach clenching in anticipation, Will looks at the hard outline of Hannibal’s dick; the lewdness of it making his cock twitch and harden in his pants while his mouth waters with the need to feel the heavy weight of Hannibal’s cock in it.

     With shaky hands Will undoes Hannibal’s belt and pants’ button, all the while staring up at him, Will’s eyes almost daring Hannibal to try and stop him. Hannibal’s stares back with hooded eyes, his breathe hitching when Will strokes his length over the fabric to feel the erection straining there. Will’s breathe comes in little pants as he pulls down Hannibal’s pants to expose his hard cock.

     Nerves makes Will’s stomach do a little flip at the erect member, Hannibal’s cock seeming larger than he remembers now that it’s in his face and he’s about to try to put it in his mouth. Licking his lips, Will grabs Hannibal’s cock in his one hand and looks up at him. Above him Hannibal is looking down at the show, lips parted and eyes filled with barely controlled lust. The blatant arousal on Hannibal’s face gives Will new found confidence and, while holding Hannibal’s gaze, he licks the precum from the head of Hannibal’s cock.

     Hannibal’s eyes flutter closed and hips jump forward, trying to follow the warm sensation before he catches himself. Looking back down at him, Hannibal runs his fingers through Will’s hair. “Keep going.” Hannibal says, voice husky and thick with his accent. The sounds of Hannibal’s voice so fully aroused makes Will smile as he leans forward to do it again.

     Will licks Hannibal’s cock till it’s fully lubricated from base to tip enjoying the musky flavor there. Tentatively, Will gives it a couple strokes, unsure how to proceed and settles for starting out slow. Enclosing his mouth around the head of Hannibal’s cock, Will swirls his tongue around the tip. Hannibal groans above him so Will begins to take him deeper, slowing putting more and more of Hannibal’s thick cock in his mouth before pulling back and swirling his tongue around the head. Once Will reaches the limit of Hannibal’s girth, he starts to stroke and bob his hand and head in tandem.

     Hannibal’s breath becomes labored and when Will looks back up at him, Hannibal is the image of sin. Eyes glazed and dark with his hair falling across his forehead makes Hannibal’s face a perfect mess. The sight makes Will’s cock twitch and him groan around Hannibal as he takes him as far as he can into his mouth, the act making Hannibal moan in return. Will picks up the pass after that, all the while moaning and moving his hand and mouth in time together. Hannibal’s cock gets as hard as steel in his grip and is soon moaning Will’s name.

     “Will… ah, ah… I’m going…” Hannibal says in wanton abandonment as he tries to form words of warning. Will doesn’t stop though and keeps going, dragging his tongue over Hannibal’s slit and swirling the head in encouragement. With a groan, Hannibal comes undone as hot, salty liquid fills Will’s mouth.

     Will attempts to swallow it all but a little bit of cum gets on his lips and chin. Falling backwards on his ass with a gasps, Will catches his breath from the exertion and smiles up at Hannibal. He stares back at Will with lust filled eyes; enjoying the view of Will at his feet with his cum on Will's swollen, red lips and hair messed up by his hands. In one swift motion Hannibal pulls up his pants and buckles his belt before turning his gaze back on Will and by the time he looks back at Will, he's regained some of his composure. “Pants and shirt off, Mr. Graham.”

     Will blinks at him for a moment before the words register. “What?”

     Hannibal stares back at him and picks his discarded tie from the ground. “I said pants and shirt off. Don’t make me say it again.” Hannibal warns.

     Will’s cock pushes against the fabric of his pants at the request, impatient as well to be free. Will stands and undoes his shirt, wiping his face with it before tossing it on the nearby arm chair. All the while Hannibal’s eyes are watching him. It’s far from a strip tease but, none the less, the action makes Will’s abdomen clench with nerves at the way Hannibal is following his every move.

     Undoing his pants, Will pulls them down and steps out of them, leaving his boxers on. “I said to undress, Mr. Graham.” Hannibal says in warning.

     “You said to take off my shirt and pants, I did that.” Will corrects, unable to keep from teasing Hannibal after causing him to so thoroughly come undone.

     Hannibal’s eyes flash at Will’s challenge. “Today seems to be the day I teach you manners, Mr. Graham.” Hannibal says in a low voice, making Will’s pulse sky rocket. “Now take those off and go lay on my desk. I’m far from done with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "With his educated eyes and his head between my thighs." ;D
> 
> side note: The design Hannibal created for Will in this chapter is meant to mirror the broken heart scene in season three. If anyone doesn't know and is interested, that scene in particular is meant to represent the three of swords in the tarot deck which means heart break. The tarot card i created in this chapter is the card judgement meaning new beginning and awakening.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like the story and the characters come across as authentic to the show. I will be using different parts of the script from the TV show in my work but most of it will be my own. (btw, I don't own Hannibal)  
> 


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